


Frontierland

by Gort



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fist Fights, Season/Series 05, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell gone awry transports Buffy to the old west, where she meets a cowboy who turns her world upside down. Begins during the Season 5 episode "Crush" and goes off canon from there. </p>
<p>Beta'd by the talented Sunalso</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Spells Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> This is more Buffalo Bill's Wild West than actual old west, but I hope you find it's all in good fun. 
> 
> The majority of this story is all human and inspired by pretty much every Western movie I've ever watched.

“Buffy, please.” Spike’s voice had taken on a desperate quality that she was seriously not going to think about. Or listen to. Or give even one iota of consideration. He’d been trailing along behind her like a pathetic shadow for the last half-mile, trying to talk to her. 

“What is wrong with you?” Buffy stomped up the walk leading to her house. She’d been so angry when she’d stormed off after those two pathetic vampires had fled that she’d figured his self-preservation instincts would kick in. She hadn’t really counted on him being the most persistently annoying vampire on earth. And why, of all the men in her life, was this the one she couldn’t seem to get rid of?

“Look, I just thought-”

“Go away!” Buffy hissed, beyond even anger at this point. This could not be happening. Spike was not…whatever he thought he was. He was wrong, that’s all there was to it. Something had gotten all twisted up inside of him after he’d had that chip implanted by those crazy scientists, and great, now she was thinking about Riley again.

Riley, who’d also accused her of having feelings the vampire. Which she so did not! Spike was just useful, sometimes, when he wasn’t being a complete jerk. And sure, if she had to have someone help with patrol it was nice to have Spike there, because he could handle himself. She didn’t have to worry about him because she didn’t care about him!

Spike was a soulless demon, which meant he was basically nothing to her. Just because she felt sorry for him and hadn’t dusted him (yet), well, that didn’t mean anything except that she was very…benevolent. It had absolutely nothing to do with the weird, squishy feeling she got when she thought about him being permanently erased from existence.

Sure, once upon a time she might have actually believed what he was trying to tell her, but those days were long gone. She was a grown-up now, and if she’d learned nothing else from the entire Angelus disaster it was that caring for a soulless vampire would lead to nothing but pain and heartbreak and dead teachers. She couldn’t do that again. She wouldn’t do that again. Besides, there was no way he actually felt that way about her.

“Would you just let me explain?” Spike said, sounding irritated. _Finally_. Arguing she could do.

Buffy whirled around to face him. “Explain what?”

“Uh,” Spike seemed momentarily thrown, like he hadn’t expected her to actually listen. The porch lights lit up his face, and for the first time all night she actually saw him. She’d been kind of avoiding looking directly at him since Dawn had made that horrifying comment the night before about Spike being in lo…having a crush on her, or whatever.

Spike rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants, which were not black jeans. Buffy frowned at him. Was he wearing a shirt with actual color? And where was his stupid duster? What the hell was going on with him? This night just kept getting weirder.

“Well?” Buffy put her hands on her hips just as she heard the front door open behind her.

“Buffy?” Willow called. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Buffy said through gritted teeth, still glaring at Spike. “It is so not okay.”

“Come on, pet, don’t be that way.”

“Shut up, Spike!”

“Uh, what’s going on?” Willow moved to stand next to Buffy but was staring curiously at Spike.

“She’s pitching a fit because I told her that I lo-“

“Don’t you dare,” Buffy cut him off.

“Oh.” Willow’s eyes widened. “Um, well, that’s…Xander said you were talking about something like that but I thought he must be mistaken. I came by to-”

Buffy massaged her temple. “He _is_ mistaken. _Spike’s_ mistaken. This is all a huge, horrible mistake!”

“Hey!” Spike looked offended. “I think I bloody well know my own mind!”

“You can’t!” Buffy said, her voice sounding shrill even to her ears. “It’s impossible!”

“I could try something,” Willow offered.

“What the hell are you babbling on about?” Spike yelled back at Buffy. “Of course I can! And I do! I lo-“

“Don’t say it!” Buffy shrieked.

“It’s a pretty simple one,” Willow said, screwing her face up in concentration. “I don’t even need special stuff.”

“Buffy?” Joyce called from the doorway. “What’s going on out here? Oh, hello Spike. Thanks for bringing her home.”

“Sure thing, Joyce,” Spike called back.

“Stop talking to my mother!”

 “Manners, young lady!”

“He’s a vampire, Mom. No manners necessary!”

“Let’s see, how did it go?” Willow mused. “I really need to take a Latin course next semester.”

“What’s with all the screaming out here?” Dawn sounded annoyed. “People are going to think we’re total _freaks_ , not that they don’t already.”

“Buffy, just give me chance. I swear-”

“A chance?” Buffy said, horrified. “Why the hell would you think I would ever…”

“Buffy, language!” Joyce reprimanded.

“Mom!” Buffy was sure she was going to hyperventilate right there on her front lawn.

“ _Alucinatio Mentis_!” Willow finally announced triumphantly.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask what Willow was doing just as the vampire’s eyes rolled up in his head and he pitched forward, unconscious. Buffy noticed with disappointment that he managed to land mostly on the grass. Maybe some brain damage would have snapped him out of whatever delusion he seemed to be operating under.

“Oh my goodness!” Joyce gasped.

“Great, this always ends well.” Dawn sounded bored now.

Buffy blinked at Willow. “What did you do?”

Willow shrugged, staring at the vampire. “Xander told me Spike might like you or whatever so I found a spell that shows you what would happen if your dreams were actually real. I was just coming by to tell you about it.”

Buffy lifted her eyebrows and stared at the pile of comatose vampire on her lawn. “So he’s what, dreaming about me now? Great. Big help, Willow.”

“No, it’ll totally work,” Willow assured her. “I’m sure it’ll show him nothing but dusty endings.”

“That’s true.” Buffy prodded Spike’s prone form with the toe of her boot. “How long is he going to be out?” Willow shrugged and Buffy turned back toward the door. “Well, he’ll probably leave once he wakes up. Meanwhile, I need you to do an uninvite thingy on the house.”

“Buffy Anne!” Joyce was glaring at her from the porch. “You are not leaving Spike out here on the front lawn.”

“What?” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “You want me to move him to the backyard?”

“You will bring him in this house at once, young lady, and explain to me what is going on.”

“Mom!” Buffy started to protest. Joyce’s eyes narrowed and Buffy thought better of continuing to object. “Fine,” she grumbled, grabbing Spike’s leg and starting towards the house.

Joyce crossed her arms. “Buffy, you will be _nice_ about it.”

Buffy sighed heavily, and turned her gaze upwards. Now her mother was making her be nice to vampires? Or, well, Spike at least. Why did these things always happen to her? Why couldn’t she just have one aspect of her life that was normal?

She grabbed the front of Spike’s shirt and hauled him up, slinging him over her shoulder and heading towards the front door. It was strange to have him so close, especially after what he’d said tonight. He smelled of something faintly woodsy and she wondered incredulously if he’d put on cologne before taking her on that fake stakeout. She decided she so wasn’t going to think about how strong his thighs felt under her arm and tried not to touch him more than was necessary, keeping plenty of fabric between her and Spike’s unconscious body. Thank goodness he wasn’t awake to remember any of this.

Joyce nodded in approval and stood aside to let Buffy in the house. “Put him on the couch, honey.”

“He told you, huh?” Dawn was leaning against the stair banister, watching the proceedings with her usual feigned indifference.

“No,” Buffy said stubbornly.

“Told her what?” Joyce closed the door behind Willow, who’d followed Buffy back in the house. Buffy slung Spike down onto the couch and scowled at him. He was just so much trouble. Maybe she should stake him, but then her mom would be mad and Dawn would probably hate her and ugh, her life sucked. Buffy threw herself into a living room chair and glared at the inert vampire some more.

“Oh, you know, that he’s in lo-“

“He’s _not_!” Buffy interrupted. God, would everyone just stop saying it? There was no way it was true. He was a demon and demons couldn’t love. It just wasn’t fair that this one seemed so much less prone to trying to kill her family and friends than Angelus ever was.

“Oh.” Joyce looked at Buffy worriedly. “Well, I can see how that might be a little, um, disconcerting.”

Buffy frowned at Spike. His head was lolling to one side and his lips were slightly parted, like he was enjoying a nice, deep sleep. “Are his eyes open?”

Willow furrowed her brow. “I can’t tell.”

“I think his eyes are open.”

“They look closed to me.” Dawn shrugged.

“Buffy, sweetheart, have you tried talking to him? I’m sure if you just said you weren’t interested…”

“What do you think I was doing?” Buffy exclaimed. “His eyes are open. It’s creeping me out.”

“You’ve totally lost it,” Dawn snorted from the stairs.

Buffy got up and moved to the couch, reaching for Spike’s face. She was sure she could still see those clear blue eyes staring right at her, boring into her as he earnestly tried to tell her things she didn’t want to hear. Seeing things she didn’t want him to see. His skin was cool under her fingertips and for some reason the world started tilting sideways as she touched his eyelids.

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice was faint and far away. “Uh-oh.”

***

“What can I getcha?” Buffy nearly had to yell over the usual din. Mr. Giles was truly enjoying himself at the piano tonight.

“Whiskey,” a man with scraggly grey beard leered at her, exposing at least one rotten tooth. “And a little something soft on the side.”

Buffy slapped a shot glass on the aged, wooden bar and poured with an expert hand. Mr. Giles had told her she was a natural when she first started. Something about her handy eye cooperation. “You’ll want to talk to Miss Anya then,” Buffy said neutrally.

She moved away before he could do something stupid, like reach over the bar. Last time she’d broken a man’s hand with a nice, heavy bottle it’d caused the sheriff to lecture her for over an hour about proper conduct for a lady. She’d come very, very close to telling him she was definitely not a lady, but this town treated her and Dawn well and she wasn’t ready for that to change.

As though Anya had heard her name (Buffy suspected the woman’s ears missed nothing) she materialized next to the man Buffy had just served. “Hello, darlin’.” Anya’s Texas twang always brought a smile to men’s faces. “Looking for a little company?” The man eyed her up and down, clearly approving of what he saw. Anya was wearing her burgundy dress tonight. Buffy liked that one; it had a beautiful lace pattern on the bodice that reminded her of better days. But she couldn’t dwell on the past.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The man had clearly forgotten about Buffy, thank goodness. Anya shot Buffy a wink as she took the man’s arm and led him over to a table full of raucous men playing a card game while women fluttered around them like butterflies in their colorful dresses.

Buffy watched for a moment as Anya deftly passed him on to one of the dancing girls, ensuring she’d remain free to watch out for all the other women under her supervision. When Buffy had first started working at Mr. Giles’ she’d gotten a quick and dirty lesson in saloon etiquette, deflecting the men who were looking for something beyond a dance and some conversation toward Mr. Giles, who was more than happy to show them the door.

Mr. Giles finished his song with a flourish, yanking off his eyeglasses and cleaning them thoroughly as a drunk wandered past and slapped him on the back. Mr. Giles beamed, his face red and shiny from exertion. Buffy brought him another tumbler of his favorite scotch and smiled at him.

“Splendid, my dear girl!” Mr. Giles lifted his glass to her before taking a deep drink. “That was one of my favorite compositions.”

“It was real pretty,” she assured him. He said that about everything he played.

“I see Anya’s doing well,” Mr. Giles’ eyes softened as he watched the other woman and Buffy turned to watch her too. Anya threw her head back and laughed gaily at something the man from the bar said before catching the two of them looking at her. Anya tossed Mr. Giles a wink, making Buffy’s employer turn even redder. Buffy shook her head. It was actually kind of sweet how they flirted, and it made her heart ache a little less to see people happy.

“She’s always doing well,” Buffy said, shooting Mr. Giles an amused glance.

Mr. Giles laughed. “True enough. And how are you, my dear?” Buffy tried to figure out how to answer him. He really was concerned about her welfare, which she still found surprising. She hadn’t had many friends before. He’d been willing to give her a chance when she’d first come through town, a chance that not many others would be so quick to give a nineteen year old with no skills, no money, and no family.

Buffy attempted to smile. “Fine, Mr. Giles.” She hated lying to him, but the truth wasn’t something she could share. Her life was better with him and this saloon in it, that much she knew. She’d always be grateful to him. Without his kindness she would have had to send Dawn back to Philadelphia to stay with their second cousin, breaking Buffy’s promise to their mother.

Mr. Giles smiled gently. “A bit of Chopin, then?”

“That sounds nice.”

Buffy hustled back to the bar and lost herself in the quick pour, serve and clean that kept her mind off her own troubles.

***

She walked home after Mr. Giles released her for the night, relishing the silence as the stars twinkled overhead. As the boarding house came into view Buffy relaxed even further. The painted clapboard glowed faintly blue in the moonlight, and the porch was deeply shadowed. It was a lovely sight to see even after all these months, this semblance of normalcy she’d managed to give her sister. The second floor windows were all dark, everyone else having gone to bed.

Buffy let herself in quietly, locking the door behind her and extinguishing the lamps as she headed upstairs. Tara always left them burning just for her, which made Buffy smile. She and Dawn had been here going on a year now and every day she felt the past falling just a bit further away.

Dawn was even improving at her studies, according to her teacher, Miss Willow. Of course, it probably helped that Willow boarded at Tara’s as well, making it pretty much impossible for Dawn to wiggle out of doing her schoolwork. Buffy felt like maybe, for the first time since her mother had passed, things were actually going well. She should have known better than to think that at all. Nothing brought trouble faster than thinking you were well away from it.

Buffy let herself into the room she shared with Dawn, softly closing the door and going through the motions of washing her night away. She slipped out of her second-best dress and hung it carefully before splashing her face. Her golden hair she let down last, carefully unwinding it until it hung halfway down her back. It was the last luxury she allowed herself anymore, her hair. She picked up her brush to give it a hundred strokes, just like her mother had taught her, closing her eyes to enjoy the rhythmic slide of the bristles.

“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice was a sleepy whisper.

“I’m home, go back to sleep, Dawnie.”

“Kay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Her sister was snoring quietly a moment later. Buffy finished her brushing and loosely braided the soft strands into a long plait. She knew her vanity cost her a few minutes of sleep every night, but it was the last piece of her past she had to hold on to. She remembered once, when she was a child, her father telling her she looked so much like her mother. Buffy tied the end of her braid with a piece of old ribbon and for a moment she saw her mother staring back at her through the flaking mirror hung over the washbowl.

The money from selling what little of their mother’s things they’d kept had run out more quickly than Buffy had expected when they’d first decided to come out west. Although she and Dawn hadn’t quite made it all the way to California, the fresh start had turned out better than either of them had expected. Every morning the tiny hope inside her grew a little brighter. Maybe, just maybe, she could give her little sister the normal life Buffy had once envisioned for herself. 

“I’m trying, Mama. I’m taking care of her the best I can, just like you asked.” Buffy whispered to her reflection. She climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

***

“Buffy!” Tara smiled at her as Buffy wandered into the kitchen late the next morning. This was probably Buffy’s favorite part of the house. Tara kept it sparkling clean and it always smelled of yeast and sugar, two of Buffy’s favorite things, even if she couldn’t bake to save her life. “I made sweet rolls, would you like one?”

“Yes, please,” Buffy said fervently. Tara’s sweet rolls were legend enough that Buffy had heard of them even before she’d rented a room here. “Was Dawn any trouble?”

Tara shot her a look. “That girl is sweet as pie. I don’t know why you worry.”

Buffy lifted her eyebrows as she took a seat at the kitchen table, glad that Dawn at least kept up the appearance of having manners for Tara. She knew her sister could be a handful, but even Buffy had to admit that the last few months had mellowed Dawn considerably. Maybe it was the stable housing situation, or maybe just the lifted weight of not having to worry where their next meal was coming from, but there was a definite improvement.

In the darkest recesses of her brain Buffy knew that it was more than just the house and the job and the endless sweet rolls. The longer they were away from _him_ , the better things got. Buffy hardly realized how bad things had become until that day; the day she’d finally admitted that she’d made a terrible, horrible mistake.

Buffy remembered clearly the moment her eyes were opened to what he truly was. She’d been fixing her hair the way he liked it, letting some of it curl softly around her face. He’d always bought her the most beautiful dresses, the latest styles, and this one hugged her bosom in a way that made the most of even her small bust.

He’d come in, loud and blustering as always, dropping compliments like candy in that lilting accent that she loved. Buffy had watched him in the mirror as he talked, telling her about his grand plans for their evening as she put the finishing touches on her hair and she realized…Liam wasn’t looking at her.

Dawn had been sprawled on her stomach on the expansive bed behind Buffy, her feet kicked up in the air and her skirts pooling around her knees like a child, exposing her long, coltish legs while her nose was buried in a book. Dawn was newly thirteen and she was going to be a beautiful woman, Buffy could tell. Apparently Liam had also noticed. His dark eyes never left Dawn’s girlish figure and Buffy felt a shiver run down her spine. Liam had looked at her that way once. All those times she’d ignored his less than savory vices and his wandering eye were flung in her face like an ear-ringing slap. She’d dropped her perfume bottle, breaking it, just to get him out of the room.

Later, when Liam had asked, amused, why she’d ever believed he would marry her, Buffy thought of that moment and gathered her courage. He couldn’t trample her the way he did everyone else in his path. He might be a big man accustomed to getting his way, but she wasn’t going to sacrifice her sister just to keep them in pretty dresses. Liam had been furious. It had taken almost two weeks for Buffy to heal enough for her and Dawn to travel without raising unwanted questions.

“Amazing, as always, Tara,” Buffy mumbled through a mouthful of roll. A hint of citrus hit her tongue and she sighed happily.

“Meet anyone exciting?” Tara asked Buffy that every morning. Buffy didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that men were all the same; nothing but trouble. Deep down she hoped she might be wrong, at least where her sweet landlady was concerned. It was much, much too late for herself.

“Nope,” Buffy replied instead. “Mr. Giles played Chopin again.”

Tara laughed. “It’s his favorite.” She sunk her strong hands deep into the dough on the counter in front of her, flour leaping into the air and catching the sunlight coming in through the windows. “I heard something interesting at the market this morning.” She looked up at Buffy, a twinkle in her eye. “Someone bought the old Chase ranch.”

Buffy gasped as she reached for another roll, leaning eagerly forward. The old Chase ranch used to be the most prosperous property in the county according to Mr. Giles, who’d taken it upon himself to educated Buffy on the history of the area during the nights the saloon was slow. “Really? Who?”

Tara shrugged. “I didn’t catch his name. He’s from back east somewhere. I hope he’s not one of those gentlemen ranchers.” Tara wrinkled her nose. “I’d hate to see that land go to waste.”

“It’s real pretty,” Buffy agreed. She’d skirted the edge of that property many times since she and Dawn had moved here, and Tara’s house butted up against the southern boundary. “I’m sure he’ll be a good neighbor. And who knows, maybe he’s single.” She waggled her eyebrows at Tara, who blushed. Tendrils of her friend’s honey-colored hair were coming loose from her bun and sticking to her damp forehead. Tara must have been baking all morning.

“Like I’d have a chance with you and Willow around.”

Buffy grinned. Tara always underestimated her own charms and if Buffy wasn’t mistaken, Willow was in the midst of being wooed by Alexander, the local blacksmith. Just last week the redheaded schoolteacher had come home with a handful of wildflowers that she treated more tenderly than even her beloved books. “Just send him a basket of sweet rolls. He’ll be yours in no time.” Buffy shoved the last of her own roll into her mouth to prove her point.

Tara shook her head with a smile. “Did you strip the beds?”

“On it, boss.” Buffy saluted and headed back upstairs to earn her keep. She and Dawn had been flat broke when they’d first arrived and Tara had taken pity on them, letting Buffy do chores in lieu of paying rent until she could get on her feet. Buffy enjoyed feeling helpful, and even though she was actually making some money now she was grateful that Tara still let her work off some of her debt, allowing Buffy save her hard-earned wages for the coming winter. Buffy thought she might even be able to buy something special for Dawn for Christmas this year.

***

_Present Day_

Dawn frowned at her collapsed sister and was reaching for Buffy when Willow grabbed her hand. “Um, don’t do that.”

“Why? Is the spell sexually transmitted or something?”

“Dawn!” Her mom’s voice was sharp. “Willow, what happened? Are they going to be all right?”

 Dawn felt kind of pleased with herself. Everyone kept treating her like she was just a kid but she _wasn’t._ She was old enough to know things now. Buffy was barely older than her when she started all the slaying and stuff.

Willow looked at Joyce nervously, her face reddening. “Maybe it’s…touching, uh, transmitted? I don’t think she actually touched any of his exposed skin earlier, but I don’t know. I’m sure they’re okay.”

Dawn stared at the weird tableau in front of her. She should probably get a camera. This was going to make great blackmail material. It was funny to see Spike dressed like he was. Not a speck of black (well, other than the boots, but Dawn was pretty sure he only had the one pair of shoes, so that didn’t count). She wondered why he even bothered. It wasn’t like Buffy _noticed_. Buffy never noticed anything when he was around, like she was so busy coming up with ways to respond to his insults and innuendoes there wasn’t time for anything else. Buffy was such an idiot.

“What was that spell you used on him again?”

“Um, a dream-revealing spell,” Willow said nervously. “I don’t think this was how it was supposed to work.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. The day Willow’s spells did work right would probably be the day the world actually ended. “What was it supposed to do?”

Willow shrugged helplessly. “It was just supposed to show him how his fantasies with Buffy would actually turn out. You know, with all the staking and the dust and stuff.”

Dawn stared at Willow. “I’m sorry, you gave him an all-access pass to his fantasies involving my _sister_?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Great. We’re going to be here for a week.”

“What?” Willow turned to Dawn, astonished. “Oh no, Dawn, I’m sure it’s not _all_ of them, just, you know, the latest one or something.”

“Or something,” Dawn muttered, crossing her arms.

“But what about Buffy?” Joyce asked.

“Maybe she got caught in it too?” Willow looked nervous again.

“But they’re okay?” Joyce said anxiously.

“They’re fine, just…dreaming,” Willow assured her. “I’m sure they’ll wake up soon.”

Joyce rubbed her temple. “Fine. Then I’ll leave you in charge. Please tell Buffy she’s not allowed to stake Spike in the house. I’m going upstairs.”

Willow and Dawn both watched Joyce climb the stairs and disappear into her room.

Dawn sighed. “Well, if they’re not awake by morning I guess we should call Giles.”

Willow looked relieved. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll just…” She started edging toward the front door.

“Oh no.” Dawn crossed her arms. “You’re not leaving me here with them.” Willow stopped edging. “Come on, I’m making popcorn.”

“How mad do you think Buffy’s going to be?”

“Super-duper extremely.”

“Shoot.”

Dawn grinned. Thank god it wasn’t her fault this time.


	2. A Man Walks Into a Bar

The whole town was buzzing with talk of the man who’d purchased one of the most venerable pieces of property in town that evening as Buffy slipped into her usual spot behind the bar. She poured drink after drink and listened as the speculation grew wilder by the minute.  

“When do you suppose this magical savior is going to appear?” Anya remarked, her lips quirking into a wry smile. She was perched on a barstool and surveying her small kingdom, her head held high and a folded fan resting against her shoulder. Her gown was a deep purple tonight. “You’d think no one had ever met a rich man before.”

Buffy laughed. “I think maybe you’ve met more than most.”

Anya regally tossed her head. “Men are all the same,” she announced confidently. “Rich or poor, they only want one thing.”

Buffy’s smile slipped a little and Anya, perceptive as she was, leaned across the bar to pat Buffy’s hand. “Oh no, I’m sure you’ll meet a nice one someday.”

Buffy moved her hand away. “That’s not important.”

Anya watched her thoughtfully. “Well, you know I take good care of my girls, Buffy, if you ever decide to come out from behind that wall.” Buffy didn’t think Anya meant the bar.

Buffy nodded. “I know,” she said quietly.

Anya had made sure Buffy knew, too. During her first week of work at Mr. Giles’ saloon, Buffy had flinched away from one of the handsier customers and Anya was suddenly there, whisking the man away from the bar and out of Buffy’s line of sight. Later, Anya had uncharacteristically stayed after hours, sipping a whisky as Buffy cleaned up and Mr. Giles cleared out the rabble.

Buffy had listened to Anya chat enthusiastically about her successful evening and then, without warning, Anya had leaned over the bar, pinning Buffy to the spot with her carefully made-up eyes. “Whoever it was, whatever he said, you can’t blame yourself,” Anya had whispered firmly.

“What?”

Anya had glanced over her shoulder to make sure Mr. Giles was still occupied. “I know it can seem like the end of the world, but trust me, men are a dime a dozen. Well, most of them.” She’d smiled then and asked for a refill, apparently feeling she’d said all that needed to be said. And Buffy, inexplicably, had actually felt a little better.

“So,” Anya said, bringing Buffy back to the present. “Where do you think he’s from? New York? Boston?”

Buffy shrugged as a stranger slipped onto a stool down at the other end of the bar. “All the same to me.” Anya laughed as Buffy moved down to the solitary figure hunched over the dark wood. His hat was well-worn and unadorned, pulled low over his face, and everything he wore was black. His coat was long and dusty and hugged the curve of his shoulders like he rarely took it off.

“What’ll you have?” Buffy asked, automatically picking up a shot glass. He looked the type; just another cowboy coming through in search of work. He’d drink too much, probably start a fight that would annoy the sheriff enough to throw him in jail for a few days, and then the stranger would be gone. Buffy sighed. Sometimes she envied the cowboys their freedom.

“Hello, cutie.” The man lifted his head and she was frozen for a moment, taking in his face. His eyes were startlingly blue and his skin was pale, almost ivory, with a dusting of pink from the sun. His cheekbones were delicate for a man, although the nose made up for it, balancing out his features so that the effect was more elegant than girlish. It was his smile that woke her again, a smirk that told her he was well aware of his effect on woman.

Buffy merely lifted her eyebrows and set the glass in front of him. The man tilted his head like he was studying her. “Beer and a whiskey.”

Buffy silently fulfilled his request and was proud that her hands didn’t shake in the slightest. Something about the way he was watching her was making her exceedingly nervous. He slid a few coins over the counter and she moved on, feeling like the bar was suddenly much louder than it had been a moment ago. She glanced back and saw one of Anya’s girls settle down next to him, fluffing her skirts excitedly. Buffy looked away again and for the first time since she’d started working for Mr. Giles she felt a fleeting desire to take Anya up on her offer.

Buffy’s smile was automatic as she served a few more drinks. The bar was more crowded than usual, everyone waiting for the mysterious new owner of the old Chase ranch to appear. Buffy ended up back in the corner by the stranger all in black before she knew it. “Another?” she asked, trying to sound uninterested. Usually she didn’t have to pretend, but she wasn’t made of stone and he was a handsome man. And handsome men were nothing but trouble, she reminded herself.

“Sure, pet, same as the last.” She tried to place his accent. It was somewhere between Mr. Giles and Liam, although thankfully more on the Mr. Giles end of the spectrum. “Heard there’s a new bloke in town.”

Buffy looked at him sharply, narrowing her eyes as she filled his order. As she slid the whiskey in front of him she finally spoke. “Was it you? Who bought the ranch, I mean?” His eyes widened. “I just wondered is all,” Buffy said hurriedly. “Because I live near there. I mean, my friend does and I stay there and she deserves a nice neighbor because she’s real nice and...”

“Breathe, kitten.” The stranger sounded amused. “It’s not me. I’m waiting to meet him, same as the rest of you.”

Buffy did take a breath like he’d suggested, her cheeks heating up. Gosh, what was wrong with her? This man was driving her to distraction. And did he just call her kitten? “It’s Buffy,” she said stiffly.

“Buffy.” The man rolled her name around his mouth like he was tasting it. Buffy felt her blush deepen for absolutely no reason at all. “Spike.”

“Your mother named you Spike?” she asked skeptically.

“Course not.” The cowboy—Spike—lifted his glass at her and winked. The woman on the barstool next to him wiggled impatiently and Buffy realized Anya was going to be mad if Buffy interfered with her money-making. Spike glanced at the other woman too. “Told you already, sweetheart, not tonight.” He flashed her a grin to take the sting out of his words and she giggled before flouncing away.

“Sure, well, I should get back to work.” Buffy glanced down the bar. Everyone looked content, she noticed with dismay.

“Seems like you have a moment, pet. Tell me about yourself.”

Buffy looked at him. “I’d rather not.” She finally got her feet to move and propelled herself as far from the stranger as she could. She could feel his eyes on her as she bustled around, trying to keep busy.

“Who’s the devil in the corner?” Anya murmured, sidling up to the bar.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she turned to look before she realized who Anya meant. “Who, Spike?”

Anya let out a laugh. “Pearl thinks you ruined her pitch tonight.”

“I didn’t, I swear.”

“I know,” Anya said absently, still openly admiring Spike. “I just want to make it look like I don’t think she can’t close a deal to save her life. He is a lovely specimen, isn’t he?”

“Um, I guess.” Buffy tried to shrug doubtfully but from Anya’s bemused expression she figured she hadn’t succeeded. Buffy turned her attention to wiping down her clean bar.

“Hm, almost makes me want to rope that one myself.” Anya’s smile was wicked and Buffy clamped her mouth shut. There was absolutely no reason for her to protest. Anya sighed. “But Rupert would be so disappointed.”

Buffy let out the breath she was holding. No way would any man be able to resist Anya when she was on a mission. “He said he’s waiting for the Chase ranch’s new owner too,” Buffy offered, feeling like she somehow owed Anya something.

“I think he’s more interested in you.” Anya sounded amused. “Well, back to the slaughterhouse.” She disappeared in a whirl of crisp fabric and perfume.

Buffy took her time making her way to the end of the bar again. Spike just waited patiently, watching her every delay with a tolerant little smile playing on his face.

She was nearly there when a hand on her arm stopped her. “You ever gonna come out from behind that bar, pretty thing?” Mr. Miles from the bank asked, clearly three sheets to the wind. He held onto her wrist to keep her close. Buffy simply put her hand over his and smiled as she twisted his pinky until he let her go with a pained gasp.

“How’s Miss Harmony, Mr. Miles?” At the mention of his mistress the banker deflated and slipped off into the crowd.

“Another?” Buffy was back in front of Spike, studiously avoiding any direct eye contact.

“I like a woman who can handle herself,” Spike said, his voice a low purr. “And especially one who serves such good whiskey.”

“You’ll want to talk to Miss Anya, then,” Buffy replied briskly, setting up his beer and whiskey. Spike put a hand over the shot glass.

“Just the beer, pet. Not looking to lose my head tonight.” He sounded more serious than he had all night and Buffy finally lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Sure,” she said, instead of asking. It didn’t matter. He would be gone soon enough.

“And I wasn’t talking about one of those girls.”

She couldn’t look away. His eyes were shadowed under the brim of his hat. She wondered fleetingly if the brown hair she could see curling behind his ears was as soft as it looked. He was exactly the kind of man her mother had always warned her about, she realized suddenly. Buffy almost smiled. Joyce should have been a lot more worried about wolves in sheep’s clothing. This man would never pretend that he wasn’t dangerous. She almost appreciated it.

“Well, I just tend bar.”

“You think I’m talking about you then, kitten?” He sounded amused and Buffy dropped her eyes, feeling suddenly foolish. Of course he hadn’t meant her. She wasn’t anything special; Liam had made sure of that. She mumbled something about work and whirled on her heel. “Here now, pet, don’t storm off. I’m sorry.”

Buffy paused, wondering what it was about him that made her so jittery. “I’m not storming,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m working.” She moved down the bar to do just that.

She was just starting to regain her equilibrium, pouring a glass of scotch for Anya to deliver to Mr. Giles, when a loud laugh caught her attention. She froze. _It couldn’t be_. Anya frowned at her but didn’t press for an explanation, heading toward the piano with the drink. Mr. Giles was attempting to teach the locals about the magnificence of Bach, but they appeared to be mutinying.

Buffy looked down the bar and felt disappointment slide through her when she saw Spike’s stool was empty, his last beer abandoned only halfway through. She hoped he hadn’t been offended by her curtness and then rolled her eyes at her concern over a complete stranger. She returned her attention to wiping down the expanse of wood in front of her, picking up an empty glass that needed washing.

A large, meaty hand slapped the bar in front of her face, silver rings glinting on the fingers. Her eyes widened in recognition but she couldn’t bring herself to look up.

“Now here’s a comely lass.” The owner of that hand laughed and the men surrounding him laughed with him like they always did. “How about a round then, bar wench?” His voice held a hint of distain only she would notice.

Buffy felt the glass in her hand slip through her fingers and smash on the floor as she looked up, dread filling her. “Liam,” she whispered. Her whole world came crashing down as the broken glass skittered across the floor at her feet.

It felt like he stood there forever, staring at her with a sneer marring his handsome features. Buffy’s dropped her eyes, her hands trembling as she poured the requested beers, desperately trying not to spill too much. “Haven’t got all day, wench. We’re thirsty men.” This time the laughter was slightly uneasy, like the others were picking up the menace in his voice. He seemed to realize it too, laughing again with a big, bright tone. “Must be new here, eh, lassie? Come now, looks like you could use the practice.” She knew if she glanced up again he would be leering genially at her in that way that made old ladies shove their daughters at him. Of course, the obviously expensive suits didn’t hurt either.

She finally slid several beers across the bar, spilling only a little, her breath sounding harsh and uneven in her ears. Why was he here? Surely he hadn’t…she looked at him in horror as the pieces clicked into place. “You bought it,” she whispered.

He smirked behind his mustache, his eyes narrowed in a way that looked good-natured to everyone but her. “Aye, lass, I’m the proud new land owner in these parts.” His affected accent grated on her. She knew in more private quarters it was much less pronounced. He liked the show though, he always had. And she’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

Buffy fumbled with her rag to clean the bar top so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She knew she was visibly shaking but she couldn’t seem to stop. Liam’s big hands slipped over the bar towards hers and she wondered if the sheriff had meant it when he said he’d throw her in jail if she broke any more bones.

“Liam Angelus,” a new voice interjected. “Never could keep those to yourself, could you, mate?”

Buffy froze again, this time in shock. Spike leaned back against the bar next to Liam, edging between the sycophants surrounding him. She watched them with wide eyes. Liam pulled his hands back, his expression annoyed as he turned to the cowboy. “Do I know you?”

Spike lifted one eyebrow, tipping his head back so he could eyeball Liam, who towered over most of the people in the room. “I’m hurt, Liam. Surely you remember.” The two men were a study in contrasts. Liam’s dark hair was carefully parted and his suit was immaculate. Even his wide, dark mustache didn’t have a hair out of place. Spike looked disheveled and dangerous and Buffy suspected he only shaved when it pleased him.

“Sorry, buddy.” Liam’s put-upon Irish burr slipped for a moment. Buffy couldn’t look away from the scene in front of her. They had the attention of at least half the saloon.

“Ah, well then, I’m sure you remember my little sister.” Spike’s voice was low and chilly. “Drusilla?”

Buffy watched in alarm as Liam’s face darkened. Oh, this wasn’t good at all. She suddenly wanted to drag Spike over the bar to keep him away from Liam. She knew firsthand what happened when people made the Irishman angry.

“Can’t say that I do,” Liam said, his tone just as cold.

“You liar,” Spike snarled at him, blue eyes flashing. “You _killed_ her!”

Their audience gasped just as Liam threw a punch that knocked Spike halfway down the bar. Buffy’s feet were rooted to the floor as the entire room erupted into pandemonium. Spike sat up, wiping blood off his chin. He was smiling, Buffy saw in astonishment. Why would he smile?

“That’s more like it.” Spike smirked as he lunged at Liam again and both men went down swinging. Liam’s hangers-on were trying to pull them apart and several others around the room joined in the melee seemingly for the hell of it.

Buffy finally shook herself out of her daze, diving under the bar for Mr. Giles’ insurance. She grabbed the shotgun and racked it before realizing hardly anyone could see her behind the tall counter. She sighed and managed to climb up onto the bar top, dragging the gun along with her. Still, no one paid her any attention. Buffy scowled, aimed at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger, wincing at the loud blast. Tiny chunks of wood rained down onto the floor of the saloon.

Everyone froze just as Sheriff Riley Finn came through the door. He took in the scene in front of him before glancing toward the bar, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Miss Buffy?”

Spike was gazing up at Buffy from the floor, his face bloodied and his shirt still in Liam’s grasp. He was grinning at her with reddened teeth. Liam was staring at her in confusion. “Um, hello, Sheriff.” Buffy waved weakly. “Can you give us a hand?”

As though she’d said the magic words, the saloon suddenly began to empty. Mr. Giles was glaring at the combatants on the floor, swaying slightly as Anya rubbed his back soothingly. Most of her girls had disappeared when the fighting began.

Liam stood up and Buffy saw his upper-class mask fall into place. He extended a hand to Spike but the cowboy ignored it, getting to his feet and leaning against a barstool to steady himself. Buffy watched him worriedly. The sheriff cleared his throat. “Miss Buffy, perhaps you should, ah…” He gestured at her.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Buffy tried to wrangle her skirts so she could climb back down, casting her eyes around for a way to do it without looking like a complete idiot. Spike pulled out a stool for her, lifting his hand without a word. Buffy hesitated for a moment before she grasped his proffered hand, stepping onto the chair and letting him lift her down to the ground. The cowboy’s strong hands continued to rest just above her hips as he settled her on her feet. His gaze was admiring and she fought a blush as she stepped back, putting some distance between them. He seemed reluctant to let go of her and her entire body tingled from the contact.

Riley was frowning at everyone in disapproval. Buffy sighed. She was in for another lecture on proper behavior, she could tell already. Mr. Giles said Riley gave her all those stuffy speeches because the sheriff took his job very seriously. Anya told her it was because Riley was sweet on her. Buffy was somehow more inclined to believe Anya, which left her feeling a bit strange around Riley. It wasn’t that he was a bad man, really, he was just so…straight-laced. Buffy fought to keep from fidgeting under the sheriff’s gaze.

“Don’t believe we’ve met,” Riley drawled, addressing the newcomers.

“Sheriff.” Liam’s smile was tainted slightly by a smear of blood on his cheek and a rapidly swelling eye. Buffy suddenly wanted to kiss Spike for those. Maybe she’d stopped the fight too quickly. Liam deserved a few more punches to the face. “I’m sorry we haven’t met, I’m Liam Angelus.”

“You’re the man who bought the old Chase ranch.” Riley’s eyes were calculating and Buffy saw him mentally determining just how long it was until the next election.

“Yes, sir.” Liam gave the sheriff a charming grin and his brogue thickened. “Sorry about that wee scrap, but where I’m from us lads always give as good as we get.”

Riley considered Liam for a moment before turning to narrow his eyes at Spike. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Spike shrugged, unconcerned. “Wanker deserved it.”

Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “You got a name?”

“Spike.”

Buffy watched Spike lean against the bar, his gaze defiant, and sighed. “Liam, I mean, Mr. Angelus, hit him first,” she tried to explain.

Riley seemed thrown. He turned to her. “We’ll talk later, Miss Buffy.”

“He did,” Anya announced, walking towards them all. “The big one hit the other guy and then there was a lot of punching and screaming.”

Riley whirled around and scowled at her. “Listen yo-, uh, Miss Anya, I’ll handle this.” He turned his back on her and Buffy frowned. She didn’t appreciate the way he spoke to Anya, like she was beneath his notice. The sheriff could be such a stick in the mud. “You.” Riley pointed at Spike. “Come with me.” The sheriff turned to Liam and extended his hand. Liam accepted it gracefully, smiling with just enough sheepishness to make it look like he was genuinely remorseful. Buffy remembered that expression well; she’d fallen for it many a time.

“Sorry about this, Sheriff,” Liam lied smoothly.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Riley told him, and then he was grasping Spike’s elbow and steering him out of the bar, Buffy hot on his heels.

“He didn’t start it!” Buffy protested again. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much, other than she just didn’t want Liam to get away with this like he did with everything else.

“Miss Buffy.” Riley turned to her just as he exited the building. Spike was watching her with hooded eyes, quieter than she’d seen all night. The little smirk he’d worn since Liam had thrown the first punch was still firmly in place. “I’m sure you’re only trying to help, and I appreciate your kind heart, but I have this under control.”

Riley turned away and Buffy shot him a glare that Spike caught. The cowboy winked at her. “Don’t fret, kitten.”

“Get moving,” Riley growled, jerking Spike’s arm and marched him away towards the jail. Buffy watched them go, reluctant to head back in until their figures were lost to the darkness.


	3. Stuck in the Clink

The next morning Buffy had a hard time getting out of bed. She’d spent half the night packing and unpacking and then packing again before Dawn had become so exasperated she’d left to go sleep in Tara’s room. By the time Buffy succumbed to exhaustion she still hadn’t decided if they should leave town or not. She wasn’t quite sure what Liam was up to, but she knew it couldn’t be good. He’d never once expressed an interest in ranching, or moving out west. He’d always preferred the comforts available in big cities, something she was well aware of when she and Dawn had chosen to come out this way.  

Buffy finally managed to stumble into the kitchen where Tara was making something that smelled amazing, as usual. Buffy’s stomach growled and Tara slid a bowl of warm corn chowder under her nose.

“You look exhausted.” Tara’s expression was simultaneously sympathetic and excited.

“You heard, huh?” Buffy dipped her spoon into the chowder and sighed happily as the creamy consistency melted on her tongue.

“Only rumors, so what actually happened?” Tara leaned forward eagerly as she expertly crimped the edges of some dough rounds. Ooh, pasties. Buffy narrowed her eyes calculatingly. During her whole crazy packing spree last night she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about poor Spike, who was most likely cooling his heels in a tiny jail cell until Riley felt his point had been proven. And that wasn’t fair at all.

“If I tell you, will you pack me a lunch?”

Tara glanced up in surprise. “Just for you?” Buffy shook her head and Tara seemed like she might clap with glee for a moment before returning to her dough. “Oh my gosh, yes! Did you meet the new ranch owner? What’s his name? What does he look like? Is he nice?” Buffy took the opportunity to shovel some more of the amazing chowder in her mouth while Tara chattered. Her friend finally paused for breath. “So?”

“Liam Angelus is the guy who bought the ranch, but he’s not important.” Buffy waved away Tara’s confused expression. “I, uh, used to know him a long time ago. He’s…he’s not a nice man. But he’s old news.” Buffy was proud of herself for getting through that without a display of emotion.

“What’s the new news?”

“There was another man there last night who’s new in town.”

“The one who fought Mr. Angelus?”

“Spike.”

“What?” Tara paused in her crimping.

“That’s his name, Spike.”

Tara blinked at her, her eyebrows lifting. “That can’t be his actual name.”

“That’s what I said, too. But he was really very…gentlemanly. Aside from the whole getting into a fight part of the evening. Spike accused Liam, I mean, Mr. Angelus, of killing his sister and then Mr. Angelus punched him.”

Tara gasped gratifyingly.

“Then Spike hit him back and they fought and it was amazing. Liam’s face looked terrible.” Buffy smiled at the memory. “But then stupid Riley showed up and arrested Spike because Liam’s rich.” Buffy slumped down, sighing. “Just like always.”

Tara eyed her a bit too perceptively. “Liam? Is he an old…suitor?”

Buffy appreciated Tara’s endless tact. “Something like that,” Buffy mumbled into her chowder as Tara worked.

“Who’s the lunch for?” Tara finally asked, sliding the pasties into the oven.

“Spike,” Buffy said absently.

Tara’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “The man in jail?”

“Yep.” Buffy propped her chin on her hands and watched her friend work. “Do you think I can have some pasties? I bet they serve terrible food at the jail.”

Tara continued to stare skeptically at her. “You are a unique woman, Buffy Summers.”

Buffy just smiled as Tara went to pack what she’d requested.

***

“Hello, Sheriff Finn.” Buffy used her company smile, just like her mother had taught her. “How are you today?”

“Miss Buffy!” Riley almost knocked over his desk chair he stood so quickly. He was nearly as tall as Liam, she noticed idly as he stared down at her, his eyes bright and hopeful. Buffy felt her smile falter. She really didn’t want him to take this the wrong way, but Tara had insisted. Riley seemed like he liked to eat, maybe she could subtly steer him in Tara’s direction. She dismissed the thought a moment later. Tara didn’t deserve to be bored to death for the rest of her life.

“Well,” Buffy said into the long silence. “I, um, these are for you.” She pulled a packet of Tara’s famous sweet rolls out of her basket and presented them to him with another practiced smile. “Tara’s always got extras,” she added belatedly. She noticed his face fall just a little.

“Thank you, Miss Buffy. Please pass that along to Miss Tara.”

“Sure.” Buffy shifted the basket in her arms, wondering if maybe she should just turn and walk out. Then she thought of Liam’s triumphant face as Spike was escorted out of the saloon yesterday and steeled herself. “Um, I also brought something for the prisoner.”

“Mr. Miles?” Riley looked perplexed.

“Mr. Miles is here?”

“There was a mix-up with some horses last night. He’s sleeping it off.”

“Oh,” Buffy took another breath. “Well, no, I’m here to see S…uh, Mr. Spike.”

Riley stared at her incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

Buffy lifted her chin. “I am.”

“He’s a criminal, Buffy.”

“Liam hit him first!”

“Mr. Angelus said Mr. Spike deliberately provoked him.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Can I see him or not?”

Riley frowned deeply at her. “Fine, but don’t think Tara’s sweet rolls are going to shorten his stint in here.”

Buffy didn’t dignify that with a response, although she did make a mental note to tell Tara she could slow down on the pastry production. “Thank you.”

She followed Riley through a stout wooden door and past two cells, one empty and one containing a snoring Mr. Miles. In the last one, furthest from the door, was Spike. He was lying on his bunk and staring at the ceiling. His hair was mussed and curled slightly at the ends, his hat sitting on the bed by his feet. Buffy suddenly wished he’d grow his hair longer so she could run her hands through it. Then she decided that maybe she needed to stop borrowing Tara’s romance paperbacks.

She turned to Riley. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Riley stared at her in disbelief. “You want to go in the cell? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Buffy frowned. Well, that was going to hamper her plans. “I can’t be a very good hostess with bars between us,” she insisted.

“I don’t trust him,” Riley said firmly. “He’s dangerous.”

“Not to me,” Buffy said calmly. She turned to Spike, who was propped up on his elbows and watching their conversation with interest. “Are you, Mr. Spike?”

Spike lifted his eyebrows and looked between her and the sheriff. “Not in the way he’s concerned about, no.” His slow smile made Buffy’s cheeks heat up.

Riley snorted and crossed his arms. “Miss Buffy, this is foolish. Why don’t you just leave the basket with me and I’ll give it to him later.”

Buffy frowned at Riley for a moment before lifting her chin. “Please, Sheriff Finn. I promise to call for you if he misbehaves.”

Riley shot her a look that clearly said he thought she was crazy as he unlocked the door and allowed her inside. “I’ll be right over there.” He pointed toward the doorway that led to the outer office. “And I’ll check on you every few minutes.” Riley pointed a stern finger at Spike. “You touch one hair on her head and you’ll regret it for the rest of your days, cowboy.”

Spike lifted a hand in a gesture of surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Deputy.”

“Sheriff!” Riley spat.

“Oh, right.” Spike shrugged. Buffy waited until a fuming Riley had relocked the cell and stormed away before turning to the cowboy. He was sitting up now and seemed to be studying her. “Hello, pet. What brings you here?”

“Spike.” Buffy nodded regally before critically eyeing the cell. She’d never realized just how barren they were. She pulled a tablecloth out of her basket and proceeded to spread it across the worn wooden planks of the floor. She settled herself on the makeshift picnic blanket and glanced at Spike again. His mouth was hanging open in confusion. He looked even more adorable than before. “Are you going to leave me down here all alone?”

“Uh.” Spike stared at her, his brow furrowing. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but what is it?”

“Lunch.” Buffy pulled out the packet of pasties, their warmth seeping into her fingers. She gave an appreciative sniff and smiled a little. “Don’t worry, I didn’t make it.”

Spike snorted and slid down onto the floor, leaning awkwardly against the edge of the bed and pulling the basket towards him. “Any whiskey in here?” he asked hopefully. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more messily. Buffy’s fingers itched to smooth it down again. She had a sudden vision of the mischievous little boy he must have been and wondered what had brought him out here, so far from home.

Buffy smacked his hand away from the basket and handed him a napkin and a pasty. “Stop it, you’ll ruin the experience.”

Spike took a large bite of his food and stared at her curiously, apparently regaining some of his usual swagger. “What brings this on, kitten? You getting a bit of a thrill treading on the wrong side of the tracks?” He rested one hand on a bent knee, his shirtsleeves pushed up carelessly to expose strong, lean forearms.

Buffy averted her eyes. “No, don’t be coarse. I just…I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Spike grinned at her. “It was my fault. Wankers like that never can stand to be called on their bullshit.” Buffy didn’t quite know what to say to that. She hadn’t heard such language since she’d had to help Liam home from a card game that had gotten out of hand. “But if it gets me a pretty girl and a nice lunch, well, I would definitely say it was worth it.”

Buffy bristled. “It does not _get_ you a girl.”

“You always bring incarcerated blokes lunch?”

“In-who-sits what?” Buffy was thrown by the unfamiliar word. She suddenly felt like she was talking to Willow, who always meant well but was far better educated that Buffy could ever hope to be. She could feel her temper rising.

Spike lifted a scarred eyebrow—Buffy refused to think that made him look roguish and handsome—and stuck his hand in the basket despite her attempt to swat it away. This was not going how she planned at all. “Jailed men, pet.” Spike was clearly enjoying himself now.

“No!” Buffy was insulted.

“Everything all right?” Riley appeared on the other side of the bars. “I heard yelling.”

“I was not yelling,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. “Spike?”

“Nope!” Spike said cheerfully around a mouthful of sweet roll. “We’re just sharing a fantastic lunch. How’s yours?”

Riley stalked away in disgust and Buffy dropped her head in her hands. This was a disaster. Spike was supposed to be all grateful and kind so she could thank him for punching Liam in the face and then, possibly, she would let him kiss her before he left town forever. It was a good plan! Perhaps she should have run it past Tara or Willow before coming here. They might have spotted the giant, glaring flaw that was Spike’s inability to do what she wanted.

Buffy took a deep breath and pulled the basket back towards her, digging for the little tarts she knew Tara buried in there. She needed some blackberry sweetness right now.

“Hey now, don’t ruin the experience.” Spike was lounging against the bed, a tart in one hand and a roll in the other, his long legs stretched out in front of him and holy moly, were his trousers that tight last night? Buffy was sure she would have noticed _that_.

“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped at him, biting into her own tart and sulking.

“Did you hide your shotgun in there, Annie Oakley?”

Buffy scowled at him. “Will you stop? I’m trying to do something nice!”

Spike let out a low, rich chuckle that sent a tingle zipping up her spine. “Sorry, kitten, please continue.”

“My name is Buffy!”

“Right, Buffy. Why the sudden urge to be friendly? Looking to brass off the sheriff? Because if so, I gotta say, bravo.”

“That’s not…” Buffy clenched her jaw and tried to remember her manners. She let out a long, slow breath. “No, Spike. Do you ever stop talking? I’m here because I wanted to say thank you!”

Well, that finally seemed to startle him into a momentary silence. He stared at her, his brow furrowed. “For what?”

Buffy smiled, cheered that she’d finally gotten around to the point of this little rendezvous. Although clearly she was going to have to give up the idea of any kissing. Which was a shame really, because he had such a nice mouth. She stared at it as he chewed, her eyes unfocused as she imagined it pressed against her own.

“Kitten?”

“ _Buffy_!”

Spike smirked at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Sure, pet. You know, if I’d known you wanted to thank me, I could have come up with a few ideas.”

“Ugh!” Buffy tossed her hands in the air and climbed to her feet; grabbing the basket and shoving the tablecloth back inside while Spike dug out one more tart. “You are an insufferable pig!”

“Been called much worse in my time, sweetheart.”

“Sheriff!” Buffy yelled, glaring at Spike as he licked blackberry juice off his fingers. Did he really have to do that obscene thing with his tongue while she was standing here? She thought about averting her eyes but decided she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So she glared while he swirled and sucked his long fingers into his mouth and she clenched her thighs in, um, anger. Yes, definitely anger. She glared some more.

“Miss Buffy?” Riley came rushing back to the cell, interrupting her little daydream of those long fingers sliding up under her skirts and…

“We’re done here,” Buffy announced, crashing back down to reality.

Spike leisurely removed his fingers from his mouth. “Come by anytime,” he purred.

Buffy felt the handles of the basket digging into her palm as Riley ushered her out of the cell and relocked the door. Now that Buffy wasn’t so close to Spike she found she could think straight again. “Wait,” she said, holding out a hand to Riley. “I’ll be right out.”

“Miss Buffy…” Riley sighed, taking in her determined expression. “Fine, one more minute.” Riley looked at Spike doubtfully before striding away.

Buffy stared at Spike through the bars, remembering his bloodied, cheerful face from last night. She wanted to ask about his sister, but she suspected she already knew most of the story. Liam had been with girls before her, she knew, but she’d never thought to ask herself what had happened to them until it was much too late. “I wanted to thank you for what you did to Liam.”

Spike’s expression was suddenly serious as he stared at her. His blue eyes were darker that she remembered, or possibly it was just the poor lighting. “Why’s that, Buffy?”

“It’s not important. Goodbye, Spike.”

***

Buffy found Riley waiting for her on the other side of the wooden door separating his office from the jail cells. Mr. Miles had apparently been released and sent home to his long-suffering wife while Buffy had been sequestered with Spike.

She suppressed a sigh as Riley smiled hopefully at her from behind his desk. Perhaps she shouldn’t judge him so harshly. He really hadn’t been anything but kind to her since she and Dawn had arrived, even if he was dull. If he knew anything of her true past he might treat her differently, but perhaps not. He did seem to try and be a good man and there weren’t many of those who paid her much attention. She felt almost guilty that she wasn’t the lady he thought she was. Buffy dredged up another smile and shifted the heavy basket in her arms. “Thank you,” she offered.

Riley smiled back for a moment before he furrowed his brow and hurried around the desk, reaching for the basket. “Here, let me help you with that.”

Buffy let go of her burden as he took it from her, startled. “Oh, you don’t…”

Riley stepped back before she could finish, slinging it over his arm and gesturing toward the door. “I don’t mind,” he declared. “I’ll walk you home.”

Buffy clasped her hands together to stop herself from taking the lunch basket back. She really had no reason to object, even if Riley would probably take the opportunity to tell her exactly how improper it was for a lady to visit a man in jail. “All right.”

Riley closed and locked the door of the jailhouse behind them before falling into step beside her as they headed towards Tara’s house. “So, Miss Buffy,” Riley said tentatively. “Is Mr. Spike an old acquaintance of yours?”

Buffy chewed on her lip and thought about lying but she figured he’d still manage to find something to lecture her about. “No,” she admitted.

Riley frowned. “Then why…?”

Buffy shrugged and concentrated on the dusty, hard-packed earth under her feet. “I just know how hard it is to be new in town.”

Riley sighed heavily beside her. “You’re a real sweet girl, Miss Buffy, but that man doesn’t deserve your kindness. I know his sort. He’s just here to stir up trouble before moving on.”

“He said that Mr. Angelus-”

“I’ve already talked to Mr. Angelus about the incident with Mr. Spike and he explained everything. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Buffy wrinkled her nose in annoyance but remained silent. “I wish you’d reconsider working at that place,” Riley continued.

Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “At Mr. Giles’?” she asked, confused. “Why?”

“It’s not the kind of establishment a lady like yourself should be familiar with,” Riley said firmly. “I thought after what happened last night you might see that, too.”

Buffy refrained from rolling her eyes only with a mighty effort. “I can take care of myself.”

“Wouldn’t it be nicer if you didn’t have to worry about that?” Riley asked hopefully.

Buffy pretended not to understand the underlying sentiment of his words. “Besides, I have Dawn to look after and Mr. Giles is a generous employer.”

“I heard the Madisons are looking for a tutor for their boys.”

Buffy shuddered at the thought of trying to corral those five hellions. God bless their poor mother. She’d heard Amy was pregnant again and hoping for a girl this time. “I don’t think that’s really my kind of work.”

Riley smiled down at her jovially. “Of course it is, Miss Buffy. I’m sure you’re wonderful with children.”

Buffy thought of the troubles she’d had with Dawn and opened her mouth before snapping it shut again. Riley didn’t need to know about their hardships before they’d landed here. “I like working at the saloon,” she said simply. “It keeps me busy.”

Riley made a small, displeased noise but seemed to let it go. “I just worry about you.”

They’d finally made it to the turnoff that led to Tara’s house and Buffy reached out to take the basket back from Riley. “You don’t need to,” she responded. “Thank you for the company. Have a nice day, Sheriff Finn.”

Riley took off his hat and squinted into the bright sunlight, looking down at her nervously. “Please, call me Riley, Miss Buffy,” he said. “I was wondering if you might, that is, if we might…”

“Buffy!” Tara exclaimed, coming up the road. Buffy had never been more glad of an interruption in her life. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Was the visit a success?”

Riley snorted before Buffy could answer and put his hat back on. “That riff raff wouldn’t know how to treat a lady if he tripped over one. I’m just glad I was there to keep Miss Buffy safe. Good afternoon, Miss Tara.” Tara eyed Buffy curiously, but Buffy just shook her head a little. She’d fill her friend in on her visit to the jail later. Understanding bloomed in Tara’s eyes.

“Are you going back towards town, Sheriff?” Tara asked delicately. “I’d sure appreciate the company.” Buffy shot her a grateful look.

“Well, I-” Riley started.

“He was.” Buffy smiled at the tall man. “Thanks again, Sheriff.” She turned on her heel and hurried away without waiting for a reply, listening to Tara’s genial chatter fade into the distance. 


	4. Trouble Always Finds You

“And he never did thank me for the nice lunch!” Buffy was still fuming, even two days after her visit to the jail. She saw Tara and Willow exchange glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. Dawn was, luckily, entirely unconcerned about her sister’s ranting and had run ahead. “Dawn!” Buffy called in irritation. By the time she was Dawn’s age their mother had expected her to act like a proper lady, and unnecessary running was pretty much first on the list of behaviors considered by Joyce to be entirely unladylike.

“Oh, let her burn off some of that excess energy,” Tara said, smiling fondly as Dawn turned to see what the fuss was about. “She’ll have to grow up soon enough as it is.”

Buffy sighed but decided Tara was probably right. She waved a hand at Dawn, who made an annoyed face at the three women following her and took off again, her braids flying behind her. “You’d think she never sees Agnes, the way she’s hurrying.”

Willow laughed. “I think seeing a friend at school is a bit different than seeing her outside of it.”

Buffy smiled a little, glancing at the others. She’d forgotten, sometime during the years she’d struggled with Dawn and her time spent with Liam, how nice it was to have friends. “I suppose you’re right.” She linked one of her arms with Willow’s and smiled at Tara. All three of them were carrying baskets as they headed into town. “Did you make more than usual?” Buffy asked Tara, glancing at her full basket curiously.

Tara’s face reddened slightly. “Jonathan said he wanted to try a cake this week, too.”

“That’s wonderful!” Willow beamed at the other women. “Everything you make is amazing.”

Buffy watched as Dawn finally made it to the fork in the road that led to her friend’s house and waved at her sister, gesturing frantically before taking off again. Willow laughed as Agnes came flying out of her house toward Dawn and the two girls’ high-pitched squeals reached their ears. “Oh, to be young again,” Willow said wistfully.

Tara looked at her in amusement. “You’re not that old, Willow.”

“Old enough to be in danger of becoming a spinster,” Willow pouted.

“There are worse things,” Tara laughed. Buffy averted her eyes and let go of Willow’s arm, pretending she needed to readjust the basket she was holding. She forgot sometimes they didn’t know her, not who she really was. Buffy wondered what they would think if she told them about Liam before pushing the thought away. She didn’t want to see pity and disgust in their eyes when they looked at her.

Willow nudged Buffy’s arm, bringing her out of her thoughts. “So, how is Sheriff Finn?”

Buffy shrugged carelessly. “I haven’t seen him since I visited Spike.”

Willow’s face fell. “Oh, well.”

“Did you know that Spike didn’t even say he appreciated the pasties? And I made sure to bring them when they were still warm!”

Willow sighed. “Yes, so you’ve said.”

“They were Tara’s pasties!” Buffy exclaimed, punctuating her sentence by flinging her free hand out in indignation. “He should have been kissing my feet for saving him from whatever lunch Riley would have served him.” She scowled into the distance, remembering Spike’s amused expression as he teased her. He was a terribly rude man, even if he did have the most wonderful hands she could ever remember seeing. Buffy shook her head irritably to clear it of the picture of him enjoying the blackberry tarts. He hadn’t thanked her for those either, that ruffian.

Willow lifted her eyebrows. “I’m not sure we should really expect a cowboy to have decent manners.”

“I’ll bet he just expects women to bring him food wherever he goes,” Buffy said disdainfully. “Him and his stupid…face.”

Tara eyed her in concern and shifted the basket in her arms. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure he’ll be moving on.”

Willow nodded her agreement as they walked down the main road towards Jonathan’s café. “Exactly, and then we can all forget about that horrible man.” She turned a smile on Buffy. “And think about much more pleasant ones.”

Buffy pressed her lips together in a thin line. She didn’t know how to tell her friends she would never be able to accept the sheriff’s attentions, not without revealing her past. She did, however, know how to distract Willow. “Like ones named Alexander?” she teased.

Tara giggled on Willow’s other side as the redhead blushed. “Um, yeah, I guess he’s pretty nice.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Tara said mischievously. “Since I need to stop by and see him.”

“You do?” Willow’s hand flew up to her hair, patting it to be sure it was in place.

Tara shot Buffy a wink behind Willow’s back. “He’s fixing something for me.” Buffy grinned at the other blonde as the three of them mounted the steps and stepped inside Levinson’s Café.

It was midmorning, so there weren’t many people lingering at the small tables inside. Jonathan was chatting with a couple of the older women who often came in for tea after their shopping. Tara gave the owner a wave and Jonathan’s eyes lit up. “Miss Tara!” He nodded at the woman he’d been speaking with and hurried in their direction. “Just the woman I was hoping to see. We’re nearly out of sweet rolls.”

Buffy lifted her basket. “I think we brought enough for the whole town,” she said, laughing.

Jonathan beamed at her. “How are you today, Miss Buffy, Miss Willow?” He nodded at each of them in turn.

“Fine, thanks, and you?” Buffy set her heavy basket on a nearby counter next to Tara’s and Willow’s so that Jonathan could unload the baked goods. One of the women sipping her tea was already eyeing the new molasses coffee cake Tara had brought in. Buffy silently applauded the woman’s taste. Tara had fed them a lot of different molasses cakes over the last week, each consecutive one becoming the best Buffy had ever tasted. 

“Can’t complain,” Jonathan announced. He leaned towards them eagerly. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Mr. Angelus, the gentleman who bought the old Chase ranch?” They all nodded, and Buffy studiously started examining the clean floor planks under her feet. “Well, apparently he bought the ranch because he’s looking to settle down and find a wife.” Jonathan grinned at the three of them. “Said he’s tired of city life.”

Buffy held back a snort. That was one of Liam’s favorite lies. How many times had she heard him claim that as they travelled between big cities, passing quaint small towns that Buffy eyed longingly. He knew she wanted to settle down someday and he used to dangle that dream in front of her every few months, making her think he was going to buy a place and let her make it a home for them. But Liam never stayed anywhere for too long before declaring he was ready to move on. In hindsight Buffy should have realized he was the same way with woman, but she’d been too young and starry-eyed to notice.  

“Rumor has it,” Jonathan lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and looked around for a moment. “That he already has a young lady in mind.” Willow and Tara both gasped.

Buffy froze. “Who?” she managed to croak.

Jonathan shrugged. “Don’t know.” He furrowed his brow, looking at her curiously. “Are you all right, Miss Buffy?”

Buffy forced herself to take a breath and let it out slowly, giving Jonathan a false smile. “Of course. I just was thinking about, um, has Mr. Angelus recovered from that fight he was in?”

Jonathan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you were there, weren’t you?” Buffy nodded as Jonathan waved a hand. “He’s been staying at the hotel, but he came in yesterday morning for breakfast. He seems to have recovered just fine.” Jonathan grinned at her. “I’m sure you’d think he’s as handsome as ever, Miss Buffy.” Buffy suppressed a shudder.

Tara glanced at Buffy curiously. “Yes, well. I’m sure whoever he has in mind will be very happy here, Mr. Levinson.”

Buffy avoided her friend’s gaze. “Don’t we need to get to the blacksmith’s?”

Willow started a little and patted her hair again. “Oh, that’s right.” She smiled at Jonathan. “We’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.” Jonathan gave them all a cheerful wave as they left, their baskets much lighter than when they arrived.

It was a short walk down to the blacksmith’s shop and Buffy thought privately that it was nice to see how happy Willow looked as Alexander greeted them all enthusiastically. At least some men remembered how to behave properly. The blacksmith’s shirtsleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and reminding Buffy of Spike, which greatly irritated her. She was done thinking about that arrogant cowboy.

“Here we are,” Alexander announced, picking up Tara’s repaired cookware. “Good as new.” His smile was bright and open. “Maybe even better.” Willow giggled as Tara took the heavy pot from the blacksmith.

“Thank you, Mr. Harris,” Tara said softly. “I’m sure it’s perfect. I appreciate you taking the time to fix it; it was my mama’s favorite.”

Alexander finally stopped staring at Willow just long enough to respond to Tara. “Of course, Miss Tara, it wasn’t any trouble at all.” He glanced at the three of them. “How have you ladies been?”

“Um, good, I mean, great!” Willow offered quickly before smiling sheepishly at her friends. “Well, I have, I guess.”

Alexander beamed at her as Willow blushed to the roots of her hair and ducked her chin as Tara let out a tiny laugh. “I’m well, thank you, Mr. Harris.”

Alexander turned to Buffy. “You also, Miss Buffy?” His smile faded and became more of a faint frown. “I heard what happened at the saloon the other night. Sheriff Finn mentioned that he’d arrested some ruckus-raising cowboy. I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Willow and Tara both looked at Buffy expectantly. “Oh,” Buffy glanced at her friends. “Uh, no, of course not.” She smiled politely at Alexander. “I mean, yes, he was definitely trouble, but he didn’t start the scene at the saloon.”

Alexander looked confused. “Sheriff Finn said-”

“Sheriff Finn didn’t see it,” Buffy cut in. “I did. Spike didn’t start it. Even if he is a complete lout.”

Alexander cast a helpless look at Willow, who shrugged. “Buffy went to see Mr. Spike at the jail and he was, um, not appreciative of the lunch she brought him.”

“You took some strange cowboy lunch while he was locked up?” Alexander asked in disbelief. “Sheriff Finn said you’d come by, but he didn’t mention _that_.”

“He wasn’t a stranger!” Buffy defended herself. “We’d met the night before when he was falsely arrested.”

“At the saloon, where he got into a fight?” Alexander asked, seemingly astonished. Buffy straightened her shoulders and gave a curt nod. He scratched the back of his head and eyed Buffy doubtfully. “Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore. Sheriff Finn told him to leave town yesterday and not to come back.”

Buffy felt her stomach tighten with some strange emotion that she couldn’t decipher. “Oh,” she said, wishing she sounded slightly less out of breath. “Well, that’s…good.”

Alexander furrowed his brow. “Yeah, sounds like that guy was nothing but trouble.” Willow was watching Buffy with a questioning look on her face.

Buffy glanced toward the street. “I just remembered, I need to go pick up some things for Dawn. I’ll see you all back at the house?” She hurried out of the foundry without waiting for an answer.

Once she was out of sight of the blacksmith shop she stopped and leaned up against the wooden side of a building, pressing a hand to her chest and trying to figure out why she felt so flushed. She glanced up at the cloudless sky and decided that it was unseasonably warm for this time of year. She made a face at the expanse of blue over her head that was certainly a much lovelier shade than Spike’s stupid eyes.

Buffy slowly walked towards the general store, trying to think of something to pick up as an excuse for her hurried exit from Alexander’s shop. Dawn had said she wanted some ribbon, Buffy finally recalled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. That was easy enough to get. She strolled down the wooden walkway, her shoes making hollow tapping noises against the boards. People were bustling to and fro as they went about their daily business. She really did like this town. Perhaps Liam would get bored and move on before he ruined it for her.

She’d stopped to gaze at some of the things displayed in the window of the general store when a figure loomed in the reflection of the glass next to her. For one terrifying moment she thought it was Liam, but then she realized that the figure was missing a mustache.

“Sheriff,” Buffy said, nodding politely while trying to calm the sudden churning of her stomach. She was letting Liam get to her when he wasn’t even there, like some weak-willed child. She’d grown up since then, grown stronger. She wasn’t the lost, helpless girl he’d swooped in like a vulture to claim. She stiffened her spine. “How are you today?”

Riley gave her a little grin. “Hello, Miss Buffy.” He took his hat off and fidgeted with it nervously. “You look lovely today.” His eyes widened. “I mean, you usually do, of course, but I…uh…” he trailed off and put his hat back on. “How are you?”

Buffy inclined her head, deciding to ignore his fumbling attempts at complimenting her. She wondered if he would ever get the hint that she simply wasn’t interested. “I’m well, thank you. Just picking up a few things for my sister.”

Riley nodded, turning to observe the street with a practiced eye. “Uh, Jane, right? How’s she?”

Buffy blinked at him, confused, before realizing he was asking after Dawn. “Dawn,” she corrected with a hint of irritation. “She’s also well.”

“Good, that’s good,” Riley replied absently. “Is she going to head back east soon?”

Buffy was thrown by his abrupt question. “Back east? Why on earth would she go there?”

Riley frowned, turning to her again. One of his hands was fidgeting with the silver star pinned on the left side of his chest. “You’re both from Philadelphia, aren’t you? Isn’t she of the age  to go to a young ladies’ school?”

Buffy put a hand on her hip. “I’m not sending Dawn away,” she said, bewildered as to why they were discussing this. “What gave you that idea?”

Riley had produced a pouch of tobacco from somewhere and was carefully rolling a cigarette, avoiding her eyes. His cheeks were stained faintly pink. “Uh, Mr. Angelus said you probably would.”

Buffy gritted her teeth. “I see.”

“He said you all were acquainted before you came out here,” Riley offered.

Buffy took a steadying breath. So, Liam was going to try and run her life once again, was he? Well, he was in for a surprise. She was in charge here, not him. “We were,” Buffy acknowledged. “But I don’t see what right it gives him to discuss my family’s affairs with you.”

Riley’s flush migrated around to the back of his neck as he fiddled with his cigarette until it disintegrated in his hands. The sheriff made an irritated noise and brushed the tobacco from his shirtsleeve. “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what you were doing,” Buffy said firmly. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.”

Riley’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m sure he meant well, Miss Buffy. It can’t be easy, caring for a sister on your own.”

“We do just fine.” Buffy lifted her chin defiantly.

Riley sighed exasperatedly. “Miss Buffy, I…”

“Sheriff!” A new voice interjected. Buffy felt relief for a split second before she recognized the lilting brogue. 

Riley smiled jovially. “Mr. Angelus, just the man I was hoping to see.”

Liam grinned at Riley before turning to Buffy and sweeping his grey bowler hat off in a smooth, practiced gesture. His grin turned slightly mocking. “And Miss Buffy, it’s a pleasure to see you outside of your, ah, work at the saloon.” His tone implied that her work was something more than simply pouring drinks.

Buffy found it hard to swallow around the lump in her throat. She nodded once at Liam and hoped that was enough of a response. The big man’s eyes darkened briefly and she tried not to cringe away.

“Well then.” Liam turned back to Riley. “Fancy a drink, Sheriff? I was just on my way to the hotel.”

Riley looked pleased. “I was heading there for lunch.”

“Perfect!” Liam slapped the other man on the back and turned his calculating eyes on Buffy. “Would you care to join us, Miss?”

Buffy shook her head, feeling her muscles coiling tensely in her back and shoulders. “I…can’t,” she said lamely.

Riley frowned at her and then back at Liam. “Are you all right, Miss Buffy?”

Liam grasped Riley’s shoulder with one meaty hand. “Just a bit tongue-tied in the presence of such a handsome young lawman, I’m sure.” Liam winked at her and Buffy barely kept herself from flinching. “And how is little Miss Dawn?” His eyes were guileless, but Buffy felt her heart leap into her throat.

“She’s…she’s-” Buffy couldn’t seem to find the right words. She wanted to scream at Liam to stay away from her, to stay away from her sister, but the moment she opened her mouth to confront him it would be over. Liam was holding all the cards. He could ruin them both with one well-placed word. 

Riley took pity on her. “We were just discussing Miss Dawn. She’s well, isn’t she, Miss Buffy?” Buffy nodded, snapping her mouth shut.

Liam’s grin was edging towards smug. “Always nice to hear. You both will have to come out and see the ranch after it’s presentable, give us all a chance to catch up.”

Buffy nodded again, her throat dry as the desert. She had a terrible suspicion that he wouldn’t take no as an answer to his invitation. Perhaps someone could be persuaded to accompany them. She was fairly certain Liam wouldn’t do anything untoward in front of witnesses. It didn’t seem as though he was planning to move on anytime soon.

“That’s grand,” Liam said brashly. “Shall we, Sheriff?” He gestured toward the hotel.

Riley touched the brim of his hat to Buffy and the two men stepped out into the street and headed for the large building on the opposite corner. Buffy stood silently, her knees trembling, until they disappeared from sight. Oh, how she hated that man. Hated how he could reduce her to a frightened schoolgirl. Buffy turned back toward the general store. Dawn wanted ribbons and she would get them, Liam be damned. This was her town first. Buffy marched into the store, her head held high.

***

_Present Day_

“Ugh,” Dawn pronounced, flopping back into the comfy chair she was ensconced in. She tossed another piece of popcorn in her mouth and held out the bowl towards Willow, who had pulled up a chair of her own next to Dawn. “First Buffy hogs the couch and then there’s nothing good on TV.”

Willow glanced over at the two figures lying quiet and still on the sofa. They’d managed to get Buffy into a more comfortable looking position—careful not to touch any exposed skin—but Willow was pretty sure her friend was not going to be pleased with how she was basically cuddling her least favorite vampire. Dawn had suggested just rolling her sister onto the floor, but Willow wasn’t sure what would happen if they separated her from Spike. Maybe Buffy would wake up right away, or maybe she’d never wake up at all. Willow couldn’t take that chance. She was in enough trouble already. She’d offered to go get her spellbooks but Dawn had vehemently vetoed the idea, saying she refused to be the only one to face the wrath of her sister when Buffy woke up.

Dawn flipped through the channels, her nose wrinkled in a way that reminded Willow of Buffy. They really were a lot alike, like they were real sisters instead of one being a mystical key. Willow was still trying to wrap her head around that one.

“What, is it like Western week?” Dawn complained. “ _Tombstone_ , _Rio Bravo_ and _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance_? God, who watches these?”

Willow sighed and slumped back in her own chair, absently taking another handful of popcorn. “I thought they’d be awake by now.”

“Maybe we should call Giles.”

“No!” Willow sat straight up, alarmed. “No. It’s only been a little while. I’m sure Buffy will be dream-staking him any minute.”


	5. A Hard Man is Good to Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a quote attributed to Mae West.
> 
> Poem is "Come into the Garden, Maud" by Alfred Tennyson.

Finally, it was Sunday, Buffy’s favorite day. Mr. Giles wouldn’t hear of her coming into work on a Sunday and Dawn was busy cooking with Tara because at least one of the Summers sisters needed to figure out how it was done. Plus, after the Great Bread Incident of ’82, as Willow had termed it, Buffy had been banned from cooking in Tara’s kitchen.

Buffy tugged on the reins of her borrowed horse, steering it toward the edge of town and out across the meadow. She passed the graveyard and the church, the reverend out front with a few lingering parishioners, and headed towards the line of trees that marked the creek.

She wondered if she’d need to find a different spot now that Liam had bought the ranch. Technically the creek was on his land, but since no one had lived on the ranch in so long it hadn’t seemed to matter the first time she found it. Buffy let her horse have his head. He’d been there enough times now he knew the way, and Buffy liked that his leisurely pace let her enjoy her surroundings.

The sun was almost directly above her when she finally got close. She slipped off the horse’s back to walk a little, stretching her legs before they reached the clearing. The creek was low this time of year, but still gurgling happily over the roots and rocks. Up ahead was the pool where Buffy sometimes waded, kicking off her shoes and stockings and pretending she was still young enough to get away with acting like a child.

She was rounding the last bend, the horse nudging her arm for a treat, when she thought she heard something. She stopped, frowning. The horse snorted and prodded her again, making her stumble forward. “Stop it,” Buffy scolded him and moved on, the noise forgotten, right up until the pool came into view, and then she forgot everything.

He was naked. That was the only thing flitting through her brain for a solid minute. He was naked and swimming in her pool. There was a pretty, piebald horse across the creek from her, grazing under a tree, and Spike was naked. Completely nude. Wearing absolutely nothing.

Buffy wondered if maybe she should at least turn around or cover her eyes or something but really, when was she ever going to get another chance like this? Besides, she was already a sinner. She would make sure to pray extra hard next week. Buffy bit her lip to keep from whimpering as he stood up in the shallows, shaking out his hair. God, he was glorious. She hated him so, so much.

She watched him stride out of the water on the other side of the creek, his long, pale body flexing deliciously, and disappear into a copse of trees. She let herself whimper a little then. She had to lean against her horse to regain her composure. Well, that was unexpected. She was certain Spike had left town. Buffy frowned and wondered why he hadn’t.

She was still standing there, staring at the group of trees he’d disappeared into, when he spoke.

“Pet.” He sounded amused.

Buffy whirled around, her face flushing and her heart pounding. “Oh! Um, hello?” At least he was dressed now, she thought frantically. Mostly. He was wearing his tight trousers and an undershirt but not much else. If anyone saw them out here the entire town would be talking about it.

“Enjoy the show?” Spike grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.

Buffy was starting to be concerned she might burst into flames she was so overheated. “What? No! I just got here!”

Spike laughed, that rich, low sound that made her spine tingle and her heart race. “Don’t lie, kitten, you’re terrible at it.”

Buffy dropped her head against the horse’s shoulder and groaned. “What are you even doing here?”

“Could ask the same of you.”

“It’s my spot!” Buffy said indignantly. “I come here almost every week!”

“It’s on Angelus’ land,” Spike pointed out.

“Well, it didn’t used to be!”

“Easy, kitten, I’m not trying to pick a fight.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” Buffy scowled at him. This was supposed to be her day! Her nice, relaxing Sunday where she sat and contemplated and, okay, _fine_ , it was her one day to eat sweets and enjoy whatever riveting paperback Tara had lent her. And now Spike was ruining it.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere so you might as well toddle on home.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “I will not!” She marched over to her spot, dropped her horse’s reins, and sank to the ground, sitting there and glaring defiantly at Spike. “I’m staying.”

Spike blinked at her. “Bloody hell, woman, are you always this difficult?”

Buffy lifted her chin. The damp was starting to seep through her skirts and she really wanted her nice picnic blanket, but she refused to move until he went away.

Spike threw up his hands and stomped off into the trees again, making Buffy smile triumphantly. She rose (gracefully, she liked to think, just in case he was watching) and unpacked her things. She spread the blanket out, dug out her lunch, her paperback and, as an afterthought, the book Willow had insisted she read last week. That way, if he came back, she could at least pretend to be smart. She frowned at the title. Ugh, a poetry anthology? Maybe Willow secretly hated her.

Buffy kicked off her shoes, no longer caring if Spike was watching. Hell, she’d seen him naked, he could put up with a little ankle flashing. Because seeing him naked was a terrible hardship, she decided. Her eyes glazed over a little. Yes, he was definitely hard. All over. Well, the back anyways. She frowned. Her first naked man in over a year and she hadn’t even seen the front. That was a bit disappointing. Maybe she could request an encore. She giggled to herself and pulled out a leftover tart.

“What’s so funny?” Spike plopped down next to her on the blanket, making her shriek.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m starving,” he said, digging through her lunch. “Your ponce of a sheriff told me to get lost and there’s nowhere else to stay that’s nearby.”

Buffy glared at him. “He’s not my sheriff.”

Spike grinned at her. “Sure, sweetheart.”

Buffy huffed at him and, after a moment of thought, picked up Willow’s book, hiding the other under her skirts as she lay back to bask in the dappled sunshine. She was going to enjoy this day if it killed her.

“What are you reading?”

“Nothing, go away.” Spike pulled out a pasty, making a joyful noise as he bit into it, and then he plucked the book out of Buffy’s hands. “Hey!” Buffy sat up, irritated. “What part of ‘go away’ do you not understand?”

“Never figured you for a poetry reader, kitten.”

“I read all kinds of things,” Buffy said loftily.

“Name one poet.” Spike hid the book behind his back.

“What?” Buffy stared at him and tried not to panic. “Fine _._ Um, that…um forest man.” Spike lifted one eyebrow. “You know! The one with the paths and the one that more people use and other people don’t?”

“Robert Frost?” Spike sounded amused and she narrowed her eyes.

“You know what? Go ahead, make fun of me. I know Willow thinks I’m stupid, otherwise she wouldn’t keep trying to smarten me up by giving me those dumb books I don’t understand.” Buffy crossed her arms and flopped back, glaring up into the blue sky like it would pay for betraying her. She felt tears pressing against the backs of her eyes but refused to let them come.

Spike didn’t say anything. She turned her head and saw him watching her. She immediately turned back to stare at the sky. He could stare all he wanted. She wasn’t going to become anything more than what she was. She was a stupid, lonely girl who’d thought, once upon a time, that there was prince for every princess, and she’d been lucky enough to find hers just when she needed him most. Of course, obviously, Liam had turned out to be a toad, not a prince, but not before he’d made sure she had nothing left to give any other princes.

Spike stretched out next to her and stared up at the sky too. She snuck another peek at him, angry that even at this angle he was beautiful. “You are far from stupid, Buffy.”

She almost let a tear slip then. “Oh please, I’m the biggest idiot you’ll ever meet.”

Spike propped his head up on one hand and looked at her, the book in his hand between them. “You know what the problem is?” Buffy heaved an annoyed sigh and didn’t answer. “These aren’t meant to be read. They’re meant to be listened to.”

“What?” Buffy turned her head, curious now.

Spike rolled onto his stomach, giving her a nice peek down his undershirt. His chest looked as good at the rest of him. She wrinkled her nose and looked back up at the sky. “Ah, here’s a nice, strong, English poet.” Buffy snorted. Spike glanced at her in amusement before clearing his throat.

_“Come into the garden, Maud.”_

He started reading, his accent suddenly picking up undertones that reminded her of Mr. Giles. She closed her eyes as he read, the poem slipping smoothly off his silver tongue and waking things in her mind and body that she never realized could come from just words.

_“My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead;_

_Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.”_

Buffy almost didn’t realize he’d finished until the silence stretched out for a while. She felt like she should say something, but the words got caught in her throat and she didn’t want to sound like a fool.

“Buffy?” His voice was tentative. She felt the tears she tried to hold at bay slip out from under her closed eyelids. “Here now, it wasn’t meant to be sad.”

“I know,” Buffy managed to say. “I’m sorry.”

She felt him reach out and touch one of the tendrils of her hair that had escaped her braid. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s not real, you know.”

Spike sounded puzzled. “What’s not?”

“Love,” Buffy said, feeling miserable. “It’s all a lie. There’s no such thing.”

“Ah, kitten, that’s not true.”

“It is,” Buffy said stubbornly. She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and turned to look at him, lying there so close, his eyes bluer than the sky above them. “I thought I was in love, once.”

“Yeah?”

Buffy nodded, studying the way his hair curled up, messy and sweet on the crown of his head. “Yes, that’s how I know it’s a lie.”

Spike played with her hair for a while. “It was Angelus, wasn’t it?” 

Buffy turned away, unable to look at him directly anymore. Not if they were going to talk about what a fool she’d been. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Let me guess. He showered you with gifts, promised to care for you, cherish you, right up until he got tired of you and moved on?”

Buffy choked back a sob. Didn’t he know how much this hurt? She knew she was an idiot; she didn’t need him to rub salt in the wounds.

“What a stupid git,” he said in disgust.

“I know, okay? I know I’m stupid!” Buffy curled up on her side facing away from him, trying to hold back her sobs. 

“Oh, not you, Buffy. Come on, don’t cry.” She felt his hand on her shoulder tugging her back until she was curled against him, his arm around her as she fisted a hand into his shirt and soaked it with her tears. He was stroking her back gently and murmuring into her hair. She couldn’t make out what he was saying over the sound of her own crying.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she was able to get control of herself again. She tried to sit up and push away from him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Stop, pet, relax, yeah? Come here.” He pulled her back down to lie against his shoulder and they both stared up at the sky. She took a breath, inhaling the scent of him. He smelled like horses and leather and something else, something indefinably male. “Let me tell you a story.” He was playing with her hair again. She could feel her braid slowly pulling out of its pins. “I had a sister once. Beautiful girl, but a bit different. She used to say she could see the stars during the day, talked to her dolls quite a lot. Nothing harmful.”

“What was her name?”

“Drusilla. She was my little sis and I loved her like nothing else. She was so tiny, delicate like a bird, you know? She was never quite well, but she didn’t care, even though Mum was always worried about Dru’s health. She was fifteen when she met him.”

“Liam?” Buffy whispered the name like she was afraid the man himself might hear it, keeping it short and quiet.

Spike made a sound like a growl. “We’d gone to New York to see family that summer. Mum thought the sea voyage would be good for Dru. So there we were, me grown enough to do what I liked and Dru just old enough to think she could too. He started escorting her places and Mum was less than thrilled. Irish, you know? But Dru thought he hung the moon. The end of the summer came and she was gone, vanished into thin air along with Angelus. All she left was a bloody note.”

Buffy curled her arm across his chest and waited, knowing what came next. She knew because she’d lived this.

“Mum was brokenhearted. She didn’t last more than a year after that. Dru would write, but not often. She sounded like she was having a grand time, and then I stopped hearing from her at all.” Spike was silent for a while. Buffy could feel the heat from his skin seeping into her cheek, his hand slowly stroking through her loosened hair. “I came back to find her,” Spike said in a quiet voice. “And she was dead.”

Buffy sucked in a breath. “Oh, Spike. I’m sorry.”

“He killed her.” His voice was bitter. “He left her in New York after he picked up some new chit and Dru didn’t understand why he’d done it. She waited and waited and finally she just decided she wasn’t going to wait anymore. They found her in the river. Didn’t even know who she was until I came looking for her.”

Buffy felt her tears starting again. “Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry.”

“’S’alright, kitten. He’s the one that killed her. And I’m going to make him pay for that.”

Buffy nodded against his shoulder. “I understand.”

His fingers slipped through her hair. “I know you do. He never deserved her. He never deserved you, either, you understand? You’re too bloody good for that wanker.”

“I’m not good, Spike, not good at all,” Buffy said numbly. “I believed him, when he said he wanted to be with me forever. I let him use me.”

Spike’s hand didn’t slow on its trek through her hair, sliding down to the ends and then back up to the crown to start again. “Ah, love, don’t let him torture you now. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Buffy almost smiled at that. “I’ve never told anyone about him.”

“Might be best to get it out then, if you’d like.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, long and slow. “It was a bad year,” she started quietly. She could feel the words pressing against the back of her throat, wanting to spill out even though she was terrified. She didn’t want him to pull away, didn’t want him to look at her differently. Still, if anyone would understand, it was this man. “Da died suddenly and mama got sick not long after. I was sixteen when she passed and Dawn was eleven. It was just the two of us and I was so lost, but then little things started happening, you know? My grocery bill would somehow get taken care of, or we’d get more money than we expected for something we sold. It was like we had a guardian angel.”

She felt Spike nestle his cheek against the crown of her head and she closed her eyes, curling her hand into his shirt. “He treated me like I mattered, when we finally met. He told me I was special and that he loved me and that’s why he’d been helping us. I thought…well, I was blind. I let myself be blind to what he was, truly, for over two years. And then one day he was looking at Dawn, and I knew. He laughed when I asked him when he was going to marry me. I thought if we could just make it official he would stop looking at her like that. I felt like trash, used and tossed out when he was done. I couldn’t let that happen to her.” When she finished she was almost whispering.

Spike was holding her close. “You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met, Buffy.”

She sat up a bit, pushing away so she could see his face. She couldn’t bear it if he was lying to her. She searched his eyes for any hint of deception. “I’m a fool.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied, reaching up to brush her loose hair away from her cheek. “You’re lovely and strong and I hate that he made you think you’re not.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say to that. His eyes were locked on hers, the blue darker in the lengthening shadows but no less honest. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, and wondered how this had happened. She’d just wanted to read her paperback and be alone, and now this gorgeous, slightly strange, and definitely bloodthirsty man was touching her. It made her shiver and want things she wasn’t supposed to. Liam never liked her to be forward. He’d told her that men were meant to lead and women were meant to serve them. She suddenly wondered what Spike thought and flushed, averting her eyes.

“What’s rattling around that noggin, kitten?”

“What’s your name, really?” Buffy asked curiously.

Spike smiled at her then, soft and sweet and wholly unlike any of his other smiles. “William. It doesn’t really strike fear in people’s hearts.”

“William.” Buffy tried it out, thoughtful. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue. “No, it’s not a real revenge-y name.”

Spike shrugged. “Maybe I’ll use it after, then.”

She lay back down, pillowing her head on his shoulder. “Are you going to kill him?”

“That was the plan.” Spike sounded hesitant suddenly. “I didn’t…she was all I had, you know.”

“I know,” Buffy said softly. “Without Dawn, I probably would have died too.”

Spike’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t say that.” His tone was fierce. “Never say that. He’s not worth harming a hair on your head, understand?”

She was surprised by his vehemence. “Okay.” Spike shifted them so she could see his face. He was close enough for her to count his eyelashes. “William?”  

Spike lifted one corner of his mouth and reached up to cup her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you now, Buffy.”

“Okay,” she repeated breathlessly.

The first touch was tentative, like he was testing to see how she would react. His lips were soft and warm and she held absolutely still, worried he would stop if he knew how much she wanted it. He pulled back a little. “Buffy?”

Buffy bit her lip nervously. “Yes?”

His eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Feel free to join me anytime.” 

“Oh,” she felt her whole face turn up in a smile. “I can do that.” She fisted one hand into his shirt and threaded the other through his hair, finally letting herself touch it. It was even softer than she imagined, slipping through her fingers like silk. Spike was laying half on top of her, devouring her lips until she opened up to his questing tongue and she discovered a whole new array of sensations.

He made her feel newly born, taking her first steps all over again. She shuddered under him and moaned as his hand moved down past her waist and caressed her hip. Her hair was almost completely loose now, and he wrapped it around his other hand, using it to guide her head. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel all of him.

Buffy broke the kiss, gasping, and tipped her head back, her eyes wide. The sky was darker now, the sunlight fading. Spike was kissing her throat, his lips against the hollow between her collarbones. She wondered if it was possible for someone to die of pleasure. “Spike?”

He lifted his head, his hair sticking up wildly and his eyes bright. He looked as dazed as she felt. “Hm?”

“Um,” Buffy smoothed one finger across his sharp cheekbone. “I have to get home soon.” She hoped he could hear the regret in her tone.

Spike sighed. “Yeah, love. Guess you do.” He rolled over onto his back and stared into the sky. She sat up and attempted to pin her hair back again. Spike watched, pulling it down while she worked, a gentle smile playing on his face.

Buffy finally dropped her hands. “You are not helping,” she said in exasperation.

Spike grinned. “Good.”

Buffy leaned down and kissed his nose. “I’ll bring you something to eat tomorrow.”

Spike frowned. “Aren’t you working?”

“Not until later.”

“I’ll just come see you.” He pulled her down, kissing her until it felt like her bones were melting. She pulled back with a supreme effort.

“You’re not supposed to come back into town.”

“Sod that. Never did what I was supposed to.”

Buffy laughed then, a deep, belly laugh that used muscles she thought she’d lost. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Spike looked pleased with himself, propping himself up on his elbows. “Promise you’ll remember what I said, love. About you.”

“I promise.” Buffy kissed his cheek, unable to stop herself from reaching for him.

Spike helped her up and held her hands, his long fingers caressing her smaller ones. He wouldn’t meet her eyes as they stood there, the shadows deepening around them. “I haven’t been a good man, Buffy, not always,” he said quietly.

Buffy lifted up on tiptoe, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You are to me.” She let him help her onto her horse after they’d gathered her things. His eyebrow had quirked up when he caught sight of the other book she’d brought but she just took it from him, trying not to blush, and pressed the slim book of poetry Willow had given her into his hands. “Pick another one to read, for later?”

Spike smiled at her in that way that made her want to slide back down and lay in his arms all night. “See you tomorrow, Buffy.”

She took a breath and smiled back. “Tomorrow, William.” She rode off into the gathering gloom and almost turned back more times than she could count.


	6. Know When to Hold 'Em

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry line from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Songs from the Portuguese.

It was nearly full dark by the time Buffy burst into the parlor of the boarding house, her hair in complete disarray. Tara and Willow were on the sofa carrying on a conversation in low tones and Buffy could hear Dawn practicing her piano scales in the drawing room.

“Buffy!” Willow looked up, shocked. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Buffy couldn’t hold back her enormous grin and Tara lifted her eyebrows. “How was your ride?” Tara asked politely.

Buffy perched on the edge of a chair and sighed dreamily. “Wonderful.”

Willow raised her eyebrows also. “Um, good? It was a beautiful day.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, thinking of the blue sky peeking through the trees while Spike—no, surely that was William—read her poetry. And then he’d made some poetry _with_ her. Her face hurt a little from all the smiling.

“Did…did Sheriff Finn go with you?” Tara asked curiously.

Buffy’s face rearranged itself into a grimace. “No.”

Willow set aside her notes and books. Tara had long since stopped her mending. Dawn’s warbling scales continued uninterrupted in the other room, thank goodness. Maybe Buffy should ask Mr. Giles to tutor her sister in music. Buffy was certain Dawn hadn’t improved one bit over the last few years.

“Then who?” Willow leaned forward eagerly, her face alight.

Tara cast a glance at the redhead, a small smile playing on her face. “It’s not always a man, Willow.”

Willow waved her hand impatiently. “Please, look at her. It’s a man.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Buffy, set her straight.”

“It’s a man,” Buffy confirmed, her smile coming back.

Willow squealed excitedly. “Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful! I knew it! But…it wasn’t Riley?”

“Spike,” Buffy said breathlessly.

Tara’s jaw dropped. “The man from the jail?”

“The one who started the fight at Mr. Giles’?” Willow turned to Tara, bewildered. Tara nodded. They both turned to stare at Buffy. “You can’t be serious.”

Buffy frowned. “He’s actually very sweet.”

“I thought you said he was awful?” Willow asked in confusion.

“He’s not!” Buffy felt she needed to defend her new beau. “Well, I mean, he can be completely insufferable sometimes, but really he’s very…” she sighed again, lost in the memory of his kisses.

“Handsome?” Willow guessed shrewdly. “Well, that I understand, but still, Buffy, you shouldn’t lose your head over him. What’s he doing in town, anyways? I thought Riley ran him off.”

“He’s…” Buffy hesitated, not wanting to share something that might get passed along to the sheriff. Willow might tell Alexander, who definitely would tell Riley. “He’s nearby.”

“You were alone,” Tara said flatly. “All day. With a criminal.”

“He’s not a criminal!”

“He punched Mr. Angelus and was arrested!”

“Liam is the criminal!” Buffy stood, her eyes flashing. It had felt so good not having to hide anymore, to stop worrying about what others would think of her. Spike’s fierce words of praise echoed in her mind. “Why don’t you ask him how many girls he’s seduced and deflowered before tossing them away like so many broken toys?”

Willow covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide, and Tara’s face crumpled into a stricken expression. “Oh, Buffy.”

Buffy felt her tears building as her shoulders slumped and she realized what she’d inadvertently disclosed. They knew now, knew she’d allowed Liam to use her and had given away the one thing that a girl shouldn’t outside of marriage. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll go pack.”

“What!” Tara stood, her mending sliding to the floor. “Why?”

“I don’t belong here,” Buffy said dully. “You’re…you’ve been good friends to me, but I’m not one of you. I’m ruined. I let him ruin me.”

Willow was standing now too, her face flushed. “Stop it, this instant!” she snapped. “You are not…you are still Buffy.” Her tone softened. “We’re still your friends.”

Tara looked close to tears. Her hands were clasped in front of her. “Oh dear, please don’t go, Buffy. I couldn’t stand it if you thought…we would never think…oh dear.”

Buffy stared at them both, her resolve wavering. If she left, she and Dawn would have to start over again, go somewhere where no one knew about her past. Maybe she’d be able to keep her temper next time, and maybe she’d make another friend or two, but…well, she really wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. “Are you sure?” she whispered, daring to hope for the first time in so long.

“Please.” Tara’s smile was watery. “You know we love you and Dawn. Don’t go.”

“We’re leaving?” Dawn was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. “You said we wouldn’t have to!”

Buffy turned to her sister and took a deep breath. She’d wanted to keep this from her but the longer she waited the more likely it was Dawn would find out from someone else. “Liam’s here.”

Dawn’s face blanched. “Why?” Her voice was shaky and Tara crossed the room to hug her, looking concerned.

“It’s all right, Dawn.”

“It’s not all right.” Dawn stared at Buffy. “He’s here for me, isn’t he?”

“Well, he can’t have you,” Buffy said firmly. “I won’t let him.”

“Promise?” Dawn looked fearful and Buffy suddenly understood Spike’s need to make Liam bleed.

“I promise.”

“Oh dear.” Willow looked at Buffy concerned. “When you said girls…”

“I was only sixteen,” Buffy said calmly. “Another was fifteen.”

Tara held Dawn anxiously. “Well, he can’t have her. We won’t let him.”

Buffy nodded and straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t going to run from Liam anymore. She would show him he hadn’t done anything but make her stronger.

***

“Another?” Buffy asked the man in front of her politely, her eyes flicking to the doors. Still no Spike. She sighed inwardly. This was ridiculous. She’d barely been working for three quarters of an hour. She automatically refilled the man’s beer while she berated herself for getting so caught up with this stranger.

That’s what he was to her, she reminded herself, a stranger. She barely knew anything about him except his name, and that he’d had a sister. He was handsome beyond a shadow of a doubt, but she’d met other handsome men and managed not to lose her head over them. Well, except for Liam, but she suspected now that might have been more of a combination of gratitude and fear borne out of her precarious situation.

“You look happy tonight.” Anya was perched on a stool at the end of the bar, surveying her girls with satisfaction. Giles was banging away at the piano, something jolly and fast that had a few couples up and dancing.

Buffy smiled at her friend. “I think I am, actually.”

Anya gave her one of her rare, bright smiles that lit up her whole face and crinkled her nose. “That’s wonderful, Buffy. I was beginning to be concerned.”

“About me?”

Anya waved her hand. “Of course! Here you are, young and pretty, and you’re spending all of your time giving yourself worry lines!”

Buffy laughed then, pouring a drink to slide over to her. “Mr. Giles needs another.”

Anya beamed at her and stood, rearranging her deep blue skirts. “I’m glad a certain someone finally decided to do something. I’m happy for you, Buffy.”

“Me too,” Buffy replied cheerfully. She turned back to the bar and it was like the whole world stopped, just for a moment.

“Hello, kitten.” Spike grinned at her. He’d taken his hat off and set it on the bar top, his hair sticking up messily. He stared at her, his eyes full of something that took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her like that before, she was sure of it.

“Spike,” she finally replied when she could find her voice. She found herself smiling back at him.

“You’re looking especially lovely tonight,” Spike purred as she moved a little closer, unable to take her eyes off his face.

She blushed. “Drink?”

“You know what I like.” She set up his beer and his whiskey without hesitation, sliding them over the bar. He wrapped his hand around hers where it was intimate curled around the glass. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured, his voice low.

Buffy felt her blush deepen. “Yes,” she said, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

A loud laugh next to him broke the spell. “Watch it there, buddy. Last man who touched the ice maiden without permission is still a lefty, if you catch my meaning.”

Spike turned to regard the man, glancing back at Buffy in amusement. “Thanks, mate, I think I can handle myself.”

The man shrugged. “Your funeral. Two beers.” He tossed some coins on the bar top and Buffy filled his order, biting her lip in embarrassment.

Spike watched the man go before turning to her, his smile impish. “Knew you were a special one, love.”

“Be quiet,” Buffy grumbled, secretly pleased. No one else seemed to appreciate her ability to take care of herself. It was something she’d learned how to do after Liam, when it was just her and Dawn against the world and she couldn’t let them sink.

Spike threw back his shot and settled his elbow on the bar, propping up his head as he watched her work. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Buffy lied, wiping down some glasses before she put them away. Spike’s grin widened. She glanced at him from under her eyelashes. “Did you miss me?” Her voice was so quiet she wasn’t sure he would hear her.

He leaned over the bar, gently taking her hand and tugging her to him. Buffy drifted nearer, her mindless chores forgotten. Mr. Giles’ raucous piano playing drowned out everything but Spike’s words. “ _The first time he kissed me, he but only kissed, the fingers of this hand_.” Spike lifted her hand to his lips and softly pressed a kiss to the back of it that sent a shock down her spine.

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “Um,” she said weakly.

“Miss Buffy,” a voice said stiffly nearby. Buffy yanked her hand back and whirled, trying to catch her breath. Holy moly, that man was good.

“Sheriff,” she acknowledged with dismay. Riley wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring at Spike.

“I thought I told you to get gone,” Riley said through clenched teeth.

“Came back.” Spike shrugged. “Some things here I rather like.” He smirked at the sheriff and leaned against the bar, sipping his drink.

“Listen, cowboy, Mr. Angelus was mighty generous about dropping the charges against you, but I can guarantee you’ll find the reception here a mite uncomfortable if you stick around.”

“It was me,” Buffy blurted out. Spike’s eyebrows slowly rose as she struggled not to burst into nervous giggles. She really was terrible at lying.

Riley turned to her in confusion. “What’s that, Miss Buffy?”

“He didn’t-” Buffy cleared her throat in an attempt to lower the pitch of her voice to its normal register and cast a glance at Spike, who was watching her curiously, his head tilted to the side. “Um, I didn’t realize you’d told him to leave and I offered him a drink on the house for…for something he helped me with.” She winced and hoped her excuse sounded less lame to Riley than it did to her.

Riley’s frown deepened. “Miss Buffy,” he sighed. “What…”

“Something to drink, Sheriff Finn?” Buffy cut in desperately, trying to distract him.

Riley’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So, this man isn’t bothering you?”

“No, we were just talking. That’s all.” She didn’t miss the flash of hurt in Riley’s eyes, but Buffy set her jaw, refusing to apologize for anything. She’d never once led him to think she was interested in him, so she wasn’t sure what he had to be hurt over.

“I see,” Riley gritted out. He turned back to Spike. “I’ll be watching you. You step a toe out of line and I’ll make sure you feel the full force of the law. I expect this is the last we’ll be seeing of you, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Spike’s tone somehow managed to be mocking and sincere at once. Buffy held her breath.

“Fine.” Riley tipped his hat to Buffy. “Miss Buffy.”

Buffy let herself breathe again as the sheriff left the saloon. She picked up her rag and smacked Spike in the arm with it. “You’re impossible!”

Spike smirked at her. “And here I thought you liked that about me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and flounced away, her hand still tingling. Anya had been watching her and Spike from the other end of the bar. “Well, that wasn’t who I expected.” Anya grinned. “You are a woman of mystery, Buffy.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“So.” Anya leaned toward her eagerly. “How is he?”

Buffy flushed. “I don’t know!”

Anya looked disappointed. “Too bad. Well, share when you do! I’m dying to know.”

“Anya!” The other woman just shrugged unapologetically. Buffy saw Spike watching her, a smile playing on those soft lips that made her entire body hum with desire, and felt all her indignation melt away. “Yeah, okay.”

Anya laughed as she came around behind the bar to stand next to Buffy, looking out at the rest of the room. Buffy watched her curiously for a moment but Anya made no move to leave her side. “Did you want me to get you something?”

Anya glanced at her in surprise. “Oh, no thanks, Buffy.” She smiled like she had a secret. “I just thought you might need a little break, that’s all.”

“But I just got here,” Buffy said, bewildered. Mr. Giles finished his song with a flourish and several people clapped enthusiastically until he began another, this one a bit more melancholy but no less danceable.

Anya lifted an eyebrow just as Buffy felt a hand on her elbow. She whirled, ready to use that elbow as a weapon, but found herself staring into Spike’s amused face. “Claws in, kitten. Just me.”

Anya waved at him merrily. “How are you tonight, Mr. Spike?”

“Excellent, thank you, Miss Anya.” Spike replied, his tone slightly more refined than usual. He dipped his chin at her. “Fine establishment you’ve got here.”

“Thank you,” Anya beamed at him. “We’re doing very well this year.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Spike’s hand had settled onto the small of Buffy’s back proprietarily. She thought perhaps she should discourage him from touching her like that in here where everyone could see, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him taking his hand back. “Can I borrow her for a moment?”

Buffy glanced between the two of them as Anya’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m sure we can spare her for more than a moment.”

Buffy blinked as Anya shot her a wink and went to help a gentleman who had just sidled up to the bar. “I’d better…” Buffy started toward Anya but Spike settled his hands on her hips and held her fast. She turned to face him, unsure. Did he think she was one of Anya’s girls? Her heart sank as she recalled her behavior yesterday, how she’d let him touch her, kiss her. A proper lady would never let herself get so carried away. Buffy turned her head to look at the floor beside her, twisting her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I need to get back to work,” she said softly. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“May I have a dance first, Buffy?” Spike’s voice was gentle and coaxing.

Buffy winced. “I’m not…you’ll have to ask one of the other girls,” she said dully. “I just serve drinks.”

Spike’s hand caught her chin and turned her head up so she was forced to meet his gaze. He was frowning slightly. “I don’t want to dance with any of them.”

Buffy shrugged and tried to take a step back, but he held her fast. “Well, I’m not here for that.”

Spike’s eyes softened. “I’m not here for that either.” Buffy frowned and searched his face, but he didn’t look insincere. “I was just hoping for a dance with my girl.”

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh,” she whispered, her eyes widening. He kept surprising her. She glanced back at Anya, but the other woman was managing the bar just fine, bustling about and charming all the men at the counter as she filled their orders. “Well, I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt.”

Spike chuckled. “I certainly hope you don’t consider it a painful experience.”

Buffy blushed. “I didn’t mean…” She couldn’t remember the last time a man caused her to be so tongue-tied. “I meant, yes, I’d love to dance with you.”

Spike grinned at her and took a step back, holding a hand out in invitation. Buffy slipped her own hand into his. She loved the feel of his strong fingers holding her gently, at odds with the calluses that betrayed his usual roughness.

She only had eyes for him as he led her out from behind the bar and headed for the floor near the piano. Buffy settled a hand on his shoulder as he pulled her close and lifted their joined hands, his other hand firmly holding onto her hip. He started to turn them in slow circles in time to Mr. Giles’ song, a sweet melody that Buffy decided was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

Spike was watching her closely, his hair in disarray and sweat glistening on his temples, but still looking for all the world like the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Buffy’s hand slid from his shoulder down his bicep, wanting to pull him closer to her. Butterflies took flight in her stomach as his lips lifted into a tiny, contented smile and he shifted his hand around to her lower back, fulfilling her unspoken request. She was close enough to smell him now, the masculine scent threatening to make her legs turn to jelly as they swayed together.

“There now, is this so terrible?” he murmured, his smile turning impish.

Buffy suppressed a smile, shaking her head. “I suppose I’ve been through worse.”

Spike laughed, his head tipping back and his amusement infectious. She found herself grinning with him as he turned them across the makeshift dance floor. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Spike’s splayed hand on her back pulled her even closer to him. “You know it is, kitten. You certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.”

The music reached a crescendo and Buffy found herself wishing that Mr. Giles would keep playing this song forever, so she never had to leave the circle of Spike’s arms, even as the final notes rang out through the room.

Spike stopped their movements but continued to hold her close, bringing her hand up to his lips again. He brushed another kiss across her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Buffy asked.

“For everything,” Spike said softly, one hand reaching up to touch her hair. “For helping me remember there are still some things worth more than revenge.”

Buffy felt her heart clench at the mention of the reason he was here in her town, in her life. It was only because of Liam that they’d chanced to meet at all. She’d never thought anything good would ever come out of her knowing the big Irishman. Apparently she’d been wrong. She wondered what else she’d been wrong about.

Mr. Giles started another tune, this one lively and quick. Buffy took a step back and smiled apologetically at Spike. Anya might have volunteered to take over the bar, but Buffy knew how impatient the other woman could get when she wasn’t in the thick of things. “I’d better get back.”

Spike loosened his grip on her and sighed dramatically. “I suppose there’s no chance of talking you into sneaking away for a bit? Maybe for dinner?” He looked so hopeful that Buffy couldn’t resist lifting up onto her tiptoes and brushing a kiss across his cheek.

“Sorry, Spike. Mr. Giles is good to me. I can’t do that to him.” She patted his arm. “I wouldn’t mind a little company while I work, though.” 

Spike gestured toward the bar. “Suppose I could do that, then. Lead the way, m’lady.”

Buffy tugged him behind her by the hand, ignoring the incredulous looks several of the patrons were giving them. Anya smiled happily as Buffy retook her place behind the bar and Anya swept out to check on her girls. Buffy passed Spike another beer and refilled his whiskey. The remembered feel of him holding her close making her blood hum. He caressed the back of her hand with one finger and gave her a slow smile that she couldn’t help but return.

For the first time in a long time, Buffy had hope.

***

_Present Day_

Dawn and Willow had given up on watching TV and, after making another batch of popcorn, were idly watching the two figures curled up together on the couch while playing a half-hearted game of Go Fish.

“Any threes?” Willow yawned widely.

“How long are they going to sleep?” Dawn asked in exasperation. “And no, go fish.”

Willow drew a card and made a disappointed face at it. “I told you, as long as it takes for the fantasy, uh, dream or whatever to come to its natural conclusion.”

“Which is dust,” Dawn said in disappointment, frowning at her cards. She glanced at her sister and the vampire. “Buffy’s so dumb.”

“What?” Willow looked up in surprise. “She didn’t know this would happen when she touched him, Dawn.”

“Not that.” Dawn waved a hand dismissively. “I mean, look at how cute they are like that.” She gestured at the couch and gave a heavy sigh. “He really likes her and she’s just being a big jerk about it.”

Willow lifted her eyebrows. “Uh, Dawn, he can’t…”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Demons can’t blah blah. _Whatever_. Spike’s not a normal vampire, you know? I mean, it’s so obvious he likes her even Mom wasn’t surprised.”

Willow paused and glanced upstairs for a moment, seemingly puzzled. “She’s the Slayer, Dawnie. She can’t take that chance. He doesn’t even have a soul.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, because that really made a difference with _Angel_ ,” she said snidely.

“There was a huge difference!” Willow insisted. “Angelus was horrible and evil and…and killed my fish!”

“And Angel was all snuggly puppies?” Dawn snorted. “Please, you didn’t have to listen to Buffy cry every night for practically the whole summer after he left. What a buttface.”

Willow opened her mouth to say something more but seemed to think better of it. “Do you have any sevens?”

Dawn sighed in annoyance. “Yes.” She handed over the card in question and tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth. “I’m just saying Spike’s different, that’s all, but no one ever gives him a chance.”

“Buffy hasn’t staked him,” Willow pointed out. “I think that’s the biggest chance he’s ever gonna get.” 


	7. Know When to Fold 'Em

The flowers Tara had planted around the edges of the garden were starting to droop, the heads bending towards the earth, but their colors were still rich and beautiful. Buffy absently plucked a bright red petal and held it between her fingers. It was velvety soft and deceptively delicate looking in her hand, although she knew the plants had all withstood at least one heavy, late-summer rain.

“Buffy?” Tara interrupted her contemplation.

“Sorry.” Buffy smiled sheepishly at her friend and turned back to her task, digging the potatoes from their beds of dirt. Tara had a heaping basket of late-season corn at her side, and was busy pulling up the last of the root vegetables with Buffy. “I don’t know where my mind was.”

Tara seemed amused. “Not with some handsome man, I’m sure.”

Buffy blushed and tucked another potato into the basket beside her while willing her face to return to its natural color. “He’s just passing the time.”

Tara frowned suddenly and sat back on her heels. “Surely you don’t think that.”

Buffy shrugged and tried to remain composed. She hated thinking about what would happen once Spike achieved his goal. Her mind shied away from any possible failure of his revenge mission despite knowing that Liam never lost, not to anyone, regardless of laws or any other obstacle. She also couldn’t bear to think of what would happen once Spike moved on. Would she ever have anything to look forward to again? “I don’t know,” she finally replied quietly.

Tara continued to look concerned. “Buffy,” she said gently. “Has he-”

“No!” Buffy said quickly. “No, he hasn’t done anything wrong, Tara. He’s been very…he’s been wonderful. Nothing but, actually.” She smiled a little and Tara seemed relieved.

“Well, good.” Tara nodded and returned to her digging. “I won’t have some man hurting one of my friends.”

Buffy set another handful of tubers in her basket and gave Tara a grateful look. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, or Willow. You’ve both done so much for us.”

“Nonsense.” Tara waved one hand and brushed a strand of hair back from her face, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek. “We’ve done nothing that any ordinary person wouldn’t do.”

Buffy smiled wider at that. “I love that you think so.”

Tara clucked in exasperation and stood, a basket of potatoes balanced on one hip while she picked up the corn with her free hand. “Let’s get this all in before you have to go to work.”

“Are you going to make more corn chowder?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Tara grinned at her. “Cornbread for tonight, I think. I want to take some to the Madison’s party tomorrow.”

Buffy hurriedly picked up her own full basket and went to open the door for her friend. The kitchen smelled faintly of the sugar icing Tara used on her sweet rolls and Dawn and Willow were sitting at the table going over Dawn’s lessons. “I think this is wrong,” Dawn said morosely, pushing her work at Willow, who was reading through a thick text and making notes of her own.

“Dawn,” Willow reprimanded. “You know this. You’re not wrong, you just haven’t gotten to the solution yet.” She made a notation on Dawn’s paper. “Check this part and try again.”

Buffy set her basket on the counter next to Tara’s and went to peer over Dawn’s shoulder, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of Dawn’s schoolwork. “You’re going to be the smartest Summers, that’s for sure.”

Willow got up from her chair and wandered over towards Tara, a small smile on her face. Buffy settled into Willow’s chair and watched as the redhead fussed over Tara for a moment, wiping the dirt from the other woman’s face as Tara blushed and tried to fix her hair. Buffy counted herself lucky that she had friends like this, who would stand with her through thick and thin. She sighed when she caught sight of the clock on the mantle. It was almost time for her to get tidied up. She wished Spike could visit her at the saloon again, but knew he shouldn’t risk angering Riley.

Dawn was watching her from across the table. “Have you seen Liam?” her sister asked quietly.

Buffy shook her head and tried to smile reassuringly at Dawn. “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping it’ll stay that way. I’m sure he’ll get bored and move on soon. You know how he is.” Dawn seemed doubtful, but nodded anyways. Buffy stood and patted her sister’s hand. “Tara said she’ll be making cornbread to serve with supper tonight. Finish your schoolwork.”

Dawn made a face but complied, bending her head over her work again as Willow and Tara chatted together and dealt with the vegetables that had been brought in.

***

“Two beers, one whiskey,” Buffy said without enthusiasm, sliding the glasses across the bar top. The man nodded and left a few coins for the drinks, joining a table of poker players across the saloon. Buffy sighed and wiped down the counter just for something to do. It was silly to be so disappointed about Spike’s absence, she chided herself. It wasn’t as though she expected him in the first place. She wasn’t some flighty girl, so caught up in a man she couldn’t think of anything else. She lifted her chin and decided determinedly to make the best of the night.

So far things had been slow and quiet, which wasn’t always a good sign. As though someone wanted to prove her right, the doors swung open and a familiar figure stepped in. Buffy froze behind the bar, her feet suddenly made of lead. Liam paused just inside the saloon, surveying the room like a lord casting aspirations on the peasants he considered beneath him. Buffy watched his eyes flick from one half-filled poker table to another before resting on her, a hand coming up to stroke his tidy mustache. She forced herself to turn her attention to the clean glasses she was putting away as he headed in her direction. She wouldn’t be the one to give him the attention he craved.

“Evening, Lass.” Liam’s voice was loud, even in the jovial atmosphere of the saloon. Mr. Giles had taken a break from the piano and was enjoying some time with Anya, the two of them sitting at a table together and chatting easily. Anya was punctuating some point she felt strongly about with taps of her closed fan on Mr. Giles arm where it rested on the table, his fingers gently enclosing her other hand. They didn’t seem to notice the newest arrival.

“What’ll you have?” Buffy asked brusquely. She had nothing to fear from him, not here where there were so many people. He’d never liked to make a public scene, preferring to take his anger out on those he felt deserved it in some other way. She couldn’t count the number of men who’d found themselves arrested on trumped up charges that were only dismissed after Liam had, mysteriously, gotten whatever it was he felt they owed him. Often it was simply money, but more than once he’d taken payment in horses or property, and, she suspected now, women.

Liam gave her an oily smile that she remembered thinking was charming, once upon a time. “Whiskey for me, and a round for my friends.” He gestured at one of the poker tables where three unfamiliar men sat. Buffy had wondered who they were. She should have guessed they had some affiliation with Liam when they’d first swaggered in like they owned the place.

Buffy poured the whiskey quickly and slid it over the bar, pulling her hand back before the Irishman could touch her. The beers she started setting up on a tray. “I’ll have the rest brought over.”

Liam carelessly tossed a handful of coins on the bar, one of them rolling off and landing with a plunk at Buffy’s feet. She refused to let him see her bend to pick it up, steadily meeting his gaze as he continued to grin at her. “A little extra for a dance, later.”

“You’ll have to arrange that with Miss Anya,” Buffy said, pushing the largest of the coins back towards him.

“Come now, lass, that’s not what I heard,” Liam leaned over the bar, his voice settling into a lower, more intimate register that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “You know I can pay better than that cowboy.”

Buffy’s jaw was starting to ache from clenching her teeth so tightly. “It wasn’t like that,” she whispered, wishing her voice was stronger.

Liam lifted his eyebrows. “Still think you’re too good for this life, eh, lass?” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a vicious hiss. “We both know it’s all you’re good for.”

Buffy’s felt her stomach drop as she tried to remember how to breathe. Her clothes felt too tight, too heavy, like they were suffocating her. Liam’s face wavered in her vision for a moment just as a flash of something bright caught her eye.

“Mr. Angelus, how kind of you to grace us with your presence tonight,” Anya said, swooping in and smiling charmingly at Liam. “I was beginning to think we’d left you with a bad impression of the place.”

The moment Liam’s eyes left her, Buffy felt her lungs fill with air again. She took a few deep breaths before busying herself with the beers he wanted, trying to keep her hands from shaking and betraying how much he affected her. Anya was steering the big man toward the poker tables, a few of her girls hovering behind her and waiting to swoop in like vultures. Pearl seemed to win out, catching Liam’s attention with a well-timed flick of her fan that drew attention to the low front of her peach-colored gown. He settled himself into a chair and pulled her down onto his lap as she giggled inanely.

Buffy pushed the tray of beers over the counter for one of the other girls to deliver and tried to find something to distract herself with. Her heart stared to slow and recover from Liam’s menacing presence and she wished for a moment that Spike had come in after all, despite Riley’s threats. It was harder to be strong when he wasn’t there to encourage her.

Mr. Giles slid into his usual spot in front of the piano keys and picked out a few notes before settling into a slow, pleasant melody to accompany the sound of shuffling cards and low, male laughter. Smoke drifted up towards the ceiling as cigars were lit and another one of Anya’s girls successfully ingratiated herself with one of Liam’s poker companions.

Anya came back to the bar and turned her perceptive gaze on Buffy. “Is everything all right?”

Buffy nodded, her eyes flicking towards Liam for a moment before she was able to catch herself. “Fine,” she said softly. She fiddled with the rag in her hands.

Anya tapped her fingers on the bar and narrowed her eyes. “Is there something I should know?”

Buffy pressed her lips together in a thin line before she nodded once. “Just…he’s not a nice man.” Buffy glanced at Liam’s table again. “Tell Pearl to be careful.”

Anya seemed to be waiting for the rest but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. She started wiping the bar top with her rag. “I will,” Anya finally replied. “Would you like me to have Rupert escort him out?”

Buffy’s head snapped up in surprise. “What? No, you don’t have to…it’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Buffy tried to smile reassuringly. “He’s a big spender.”

Anya nodded slowly. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Buffy felt an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude. How had she ever considered moving on from this place when these were the people she’d be leaving behind? They were worth enduring a thousand Liams. “Thank you,” Buffy said quietly.

Anya rapped her fan smartly on the bar. “We take care of our own, Buffy,” she said emphatically. “Now, I’m off to make sure Pearl doesn’t stick her foot in her mouth before the first hand’s been dealt.” Buffy watched the other woman spin away, her muted blush skirt swinging just high enough to reveal layers of multicolored petticoats. Mr. Giles’ playing picked up a little as everything seemed to settle down again but Buffy wasn’t going to hold her breath, not with Liam so near.

***

A few other men had rotated through the chairs at Liam’s poker table, enjoying Liam’s liberal handouts of booze and cigars while the man himself entertained them with stories of his homeland. Buffy knew he’d been gone from Ireland a lot longer than he’d ever lived there, but that was Liam all over: false and boastful. Buffy was kept busy at the bar, providing drinks for Pearl and the other girls to deliver.

The doors swung open to admit another patron, and Buffy wasn’t surprised to see Sheriff Finn standing there, his sharp eyes taking in the room. He usually came by in the evenings to make sure no one got too rowdy. The saloon was in full swing and Anya was obviously pleased at how her girls were doing, smiling delightedly every time she took a moment to catch Buffy’s eye. Mr. Giles was keeping the music more contemporary tonight, playing none of the long, bombastic classics he sometimes insisted on sharing. He claimed he did it to educate the public but Buffy wondered if they were more of a way for him to show off his talents.

Buffy watched in surprise as Sheriff Finn actually took a seat at Liam’s table, laughing along with the other men and even accepting a beer from one of the girls. He’d never taken the time to sit and have a drink in the past, even back when Anya used to tease her about Riley coming in just to see the pretty new barmaid. Buffy sighed in disappointment. She’d been hoping a lawman like Riley would be able to see past Liam’s phony charm, but apparently that wasn’t to be. She wondered what Riley would think if she told him the true story of her and Liam, but after watching him laugh with her former pseudo-fiancé Buffy realized it was too late. Riley wouldn’t believe anything that put his new benefactor in a bad light.

She poured several whiskeys for some newcomers as Riley downed his drink and stood, slapping Liam on the shoulder in a friendly way. The saloon doors swung open again and everything seemed to stop, just for a moment. Buffy found herself frozen in fear behind the bar for the second time that night, but this time the worry she felt wasn’t for herself. Spike’s eyes sought hers as he confidently crossed the room, passing the sheriff like Riley was just an ordinary man. Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat as she noticed Riley’s scowling face.

“Cowboy” Riley’s hand caught Spike’s arm, halting his progress. “How many warnings do you think I’m gonna give you?”

Spike lifted one eyebrow at the sheriff and glanced at the busy poker table behind him. “Looks to me like you’re not particularly discerning about the quality of folks in this place.”

Liam was leaning back in his chair with Pearl perched on his knee and a sly grin on his face. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, laddie,” Liam said, his voice carrying. The men around him slowly stopped playing to watch the tableau unfolding in front of them. Buffy gripped the edge of the bar and swallowed her words of warning to Spike. He already knew what kind of man Liam was.  

“I’m not really one to turn tail and run,” Spike said casually, glancing at Buffy before turning his attention back to Liam and retrieving a pouch of tobacco from the pocket of his duster. His black hat was pulled low over his face tonight, shadowing his eyes when he dipped his chin to seal the cigarette paper before sticking the finished product in his mouth in a practiced motion. He frowned at the sheriff. “Got a light, mate?”

Riley scowled at him. “I told you-”

“Now, Sheriff, perhaps we’ve been a bit hasty. A man always deserves a second chance. You up for a game, lad?” Liam produced a lighter from somewhere, the silver object highly polished and glittering in the low light. Spike took a step closer to the big man and accepted the light with a nod, flicking the top closed and passing it back as he exhaled a stream of smoke.

“Saved me a seat, have you?” Spike asked.

Liam reached out with one large hand and shoved the nearest man off his chair, gesturing at the sudden vacancy. The man hit the floor with a thud and a yelp of complaint before picking himself up and staggering off towards another table, clearly having overly imbibed. Spike didn’t blink.

Riley shot Liam a puzzled look before his face cleared and he straightened his shoulders. “Start any trouble and you won’t be seeing the outside of a cell for the rest of the year, you understand me, cowboy?”

Spike didn’t even spare a glance for Riley, his eyes squarely on Liam as he took the offered seat. He lifted a careless hand at the sheriff in acknowledgment, making Riley set his jaw before he stormed out of the saloon. Liam grinned predatorily at Spike and Buffy shivered like a goose had just walked over her grave. The noise in the room picked back up and she couldn’t hear them anymore.

“Buffy?”

Buffy jumped at the sound of her name, tearing her eyes from Spike. “Oh! Sorry, Anya.”

The woman smiled gently. “One for Mr. Giles, I think. He’s been working hard tonight.”

Buffy poured a generous amount of good scotch for Mr. Giles and slid it over to Anya. “Is everything okay?”

Anya nodded. “Pearl’s been letting him get away with…more than I’d prefer, but she’s still fairly new. I’ll have to remind her of a few things tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said absently, watching as one of the girls draped herself over the back of Spike’s chair, her bosom pressing against Spike’s shoulder. She whispered something in his ear and smiled suggestively. Spike smiled back and Buffy dropped her eyes, tightly gripping the rag in her fist as she fought to remain composed. She would not break down while she was working. It wasn’t as though Spike had asked to court her or anything. She felt her insides twist painfully.

Buffy kept her eyes trained on the bar in front of her as Anya clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Hang on, Greta’s about to get herself knocked on her ear.” Buffy looked up, surprised, as Anya crossed the room. The girl who’d been talking to Spike was still draped over him, although he didn’t seem to be enjoying it anymore. Buffy felt her stomach slowly unknotting as Spike moved his knee before Greta could perch on it, shaking his head in annoyance. Liam was watching in amusement, his hand draped over Pearl’s shoulder and fondling one of her covered breasts.

Anya swooped in and took hold of Greta’s arm, drawing the other girl away while chattering at Spike, her smile firmly in place as Greta stomped off to sulk. Spike was laughing now, and his cheerful expression made Buffy wish they were alone so she could kiss him breathless and show him just how much she loved to see him smiling like that.

Liam tossed back a drink and eyed Anya’s figure appreciatively while she spoke with Spike. Buffy couldn’t hear what Anya was saying, but she was just grateful that Spike apparently wouldn’t be taking any female company, at least not in here where she would have to watch. Liam had always made it very clear that one woman would never be enough to keep a man happy, and from what she’d seen in the saloon that was pretty much a universal truth. She glanced at Spike again and felt her heart constrict painfully. She hoped he left town before he became tired of her and took up with someone else. It would hurt too much to watch him turn those striking blue eyes on another woman. 

Buffy’s mouth dropped open in the next moment, her own woes forgotten, as Liam boldly reached out towards Anya and tried to pull her back into his lap next to Pearl. Mr. Giles’ piano playing faltered suddenly, a sour note ringing through the air and Buffy covered her mouth with one hand to stifle her gasp. No one touched Anya like that. She didn’t take clients anymore, not since she’d gone into business with Mr. Giles.

Buffy braced her hands against the bar to keep from reaching for the shotgun under it. Logically, she knew that touching Anya without permission wasn’t a shooting offense, and she’d seen Anya extract herself from worse situations without a cross word.

Buffy watched, holding her breath, as Anya somehow managed to stay on her feet, spinning around and rapping Liam smartly on his wrist with her fan while leaning over and distracting him with her décolleté. Liam had released her, startled, when she’d moved. Buffy watched as Anya smiled prettily and easily directed his attention back to Pearl. She tapped his shoulder more gently with her fan before strolling away like she hadn’t just been manhandled. Buffy released her breath and prepared another drink before leaving the bar for a moment.

Buffy met Anya at Mr. Giles’ piano with two drinks, one made up just the way Anya liked it. Mr. Giles was picking at the keyboard, clearly distracted. “Are you all right?” Buffy asked softly as Anya settled onto the piano bench and put a reassuring hand on Mr. Giles’ arm.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Men.” That was all she said before accepting the drinks from Buffy and placing Mr. Giles’ where he could reach it. Buffy made her way back to the bar as Mr. Giles’ playing evened out, Anya’s head resting on his shoulder for the remainder of the song.

It felt like this evening had lasted a month already, but the clock showed Buffy still had a ways to go before it was time to head home. She retrieved a few dirty glasses to clean so she could concentrate on more than the fear roiling her belly whenever she caught sight of Spike seated next to Liam.

Buffy was working so hard at distracting herself she almost missed Pearl gesturing impatiently toward the bar. Buffy furrowed her brow and glanced at Anya before deciding she would handle this run. She carefully put together a tray of beer and hefted it up, rounding the edge of the bar and striding purposefully across the room. She evaded one grasping hand easily, noting the table so she could avoid it on the way back, before arriving at her destination. Spike looked up in surprise before his expression changed to something sweet enough to draw a genuine smile from her, despite Liam’s proximity.

“Thank you, love,” Spike murmured, his voice pitched low like the words were just for her. He caught her hand for a moment and squeezed it affectionately after she served him before returning his attention to his cards. When Buffy turned to Liam he was watching her with cold, calculating eyes. She simply replaced his empty glass with a full one before doing the same for the other gentlemen at the table.

Pearl wiggled impatiently when Liam didn’t immediately return his attention to her. “Do you want to dance, handsome?” Pearl cooed, her hand sliding down Liam’s arm.

Liam’s mouth turned up at the corners in a parody of a smile but he was still watching Buffy as she collected the dirty glasses. “Maybe later, lassie. Might take the newest girl out for a spin first.”

Pearl frowned and looked over her shoulder at Buffy just as Spike let out a low growl. “Oh, she’s not-” Pearl started.

“Watch your mouth, Angelus,” Spike gritted out. Buffy rounded the table with her tray and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His eyes softened as he looked up at her.

“Sorry, boy, didn’t realize you’d claimed her for the evening,” Liam said, his eyes glittering with mirth.

Spike’s hands tightened around his glass until his knuckles were white and Buffy glared at Liam before lifting her chin and heading back to the safety of her bar, hoping no one could tell that she was trembling from holding back all the things she wanted to scream at Liam. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was a powerful man, and she was just a barmaid. He could destroy her, and Dawn, without lifting a finger. Liam never had been particularly patient. All she had to do was outlast this latest whim and they’d be free of him once more.


	8. Something Up His Sleeve

The evening stretched on like some terrible parody of purgatory: not so awful that it was unbearable, but definitely not the paradise one might hope for. Buffy spent more and more time staring worriedly at Liam’s poker table, wanting to be sure Spike remained in once piece. He could take care of himself, she knew that, but he seemed to have an innate sense of fairness Liam lacked, and she was sure the Irishman was going to exploit it.

“Hey!” A voice interrupted her musings. She turned to see Mr. Miles leaning over the bar and gesturing at her impatiently. Harmony was hanging off his arm, clearly having had a few drinks herself. Mr. Miles slapped a few coins down as Harmony giggled and cooed in his ear, her pink dress cut low enough that in any other establishment she’d be raising a few eyebrows. “Whiskey here,” Mr. Miles slapped the bar top, clearly pleased with himself.

Buffy moved to fill his order on autopilot. She’d seen him come in a bit earlier, though his expression had been a lot more sour at the time. He must have had a run of luck at the tables tonight. Buffy slid his drinks over and nodded as he and Harmony toddled off, clinging to one another to stay upright. She heard Harmony chattering about all the pretty things she wanted him to buy her. Buffy shook her head. Mr. Miles was going to be just as sour-faced tomorrow once he realized his mistress had spent all of his winnings again. She didn’t know how men put up with addle-headed women like that.

As though summoned by her thoughts, Pearl appeared at the bar. Her face was slightly flushed, but she seemed much more alert that Harmony had. At least Anya’s lessons about not drinking all the profits hadn’t flown out of Pearl’s head. She dropped a handful of coins on the counter. “Mr. Angelus would like another round,” Pearl said haughtily. She eyed Buffy like she thought she’d have to fight to keep Buffy from claiming Liam for herself. Buffy almost laughed at the absurdity of the other woman’s unfounded jealousy.

“Coming up,” Buffy said neutrally. “Things are going well?” She started arranging glasses on a tray for Pearl, who watched her with narrowed eyes.

“They are going well,” Pearl said. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mess it up for me again.” She tossed her hair. “At least this one has money, unlike that cowboy.” Pearl’s lip curled up in a sneer.

Buffy wisely decided to keep her mouth shut and slid the last of the beers onto the tray. She nodded as Pearl sniffed at her disdainfully and left, allowing Buffy to return her attention to Spike. He was frowning at his cards and had only a small pile of money left in front of him. Liam was clearly enjoying a winning streak, his loud voice carrying that tidbit of information back to Buffy. She frowned and watched the men play another round but didn’t spot anything unusual. Perhaps Liam was just lucky tonight.

Pearl laughed girlishly as she provided Liam and the others with a fresh round of drinks, flirting with the big Irishman brazenly under Anya’s watchful eye. One of the other girls helped Pearl collect the empty glasses and started to bring them back to the bar when Liam’s voice suddenly got even louder.

“You stupid whore!” Liam boomed, standing abruptly. Pearl looked stricken and Mr. Giles’ piano playing stopped mid-song.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl gasped, reaching for Liam. “I’ll get something to clean it up right-”

Her sentence was cut off by an ear-ringing slap. “Damn right you will,” Liam growled. “You’re ruining my streak.”

Pearl hurried away, her eyes filled with tears and her cheek bright red where Liam had hit her. Anya was moving to intercept her and Mr. Giles was rising from the piano bench when Buffy saw Anya shake her head at him. Buffy knew Anya was simply hoping Liam could be persuaded to leave now that the altercation was over, but she had a sinking feeling that the night had only just started to go downhill.

Spike was leaning back in his chair, his expression one of disgust as he looked at Liam. The Irishman was ostentatiously gesturing at his clothing. Pearl must have spilled on him. Buffy glanced at Pearl in sympathy, but the woman had already disappeared. Anya had probably hustled her into the back room to get her out of Liam’s sight. One of the other girls brought Liam a rag, smiling tentatively. Liam snatched it from her without so much of a thank you and continued his grumbling while the other men shifted impatiently.

Buffy started to relax again as Liam took his seat, but the reprieve was incredibly brief. Buffy noticed the cards on the floor between his chair and Spike’s at the same time one of Anya’s girls did. The girl gasped loudly, putting her hand over her mouth and drawing the attention of every man at the table. Liam turned to glare at her before he spotted the cards as well. Buffy watched Liam’s eyes darken as he glared at the girl before his gaze flickered to Spike so briefly Buffy almost thought she’d imagined it. She knew then, clear as day, exactly what was going to happen next. Her hands curled into fists as she watched, helpless to stop it.

“You been cheating, boy?” Liam accused menacingly. The other men at the table started to rise, all eyes on Spike.

Spike’s jaw tightened but he didn’t stand. “If I had been, you’d think I’d be a bit more flush.” He gestured at the dwindling pile in front of him. 

Liam’s hand shot out and grasped the front of Spike’s shirt, hauling him up out of his chair. Buffy rounded the bar without even realizing she’d moved, her feet taking her toward the confrontation. Mr. Giles was up now, too. “You calling me a liar?” Liam boomed.

Spike tried to wiggle out of Liam’s grasp but another poker player had grabbed one of the cowboy’s arms and was busy turning Spike’s pockets inside out. “Get off me,” Spike snarled, yanking his arm back. “The cards were yours, Angelus.”

Liam cocked his fist back and smashed it into Spike’s face before Buffy could even open her mouth to scream.

Mr. Giles pushed her aside as he hurried toward the fight, making Buffy stumble into a vacant chair, but her eyes never left Spike. Liam’s punch had at least knocked the cowboy free of grasping hands, although from the way Spike was shaking his head Liam had gotten in a good hit.

“Spike!” Buffy called, but her voice was lost in the uproar. The men from other tables were getting involved now, all of them yelling about what they did to card sharps and shoving each other accusingly. Another fist flew, this one glancing off a stranger’s shoulder and causing the man to stumble into the Liam, almost knocking the big man over. Mr. Giles was shouting and trying to push his way to the center of the confrontation but his voice didn’t carry over Liam’s roar.

Buffy covered her mouth as Liam turned and punched the man who’d fallen into him with such force that the man collapsed to the floor in a heap. Another man leapt onto Liam’s back, apparently deciding a brawl was more interesting than an argument about who’d been cheating at cards, and it was on.

Buffy grabbed Greta as the girl hurried by, no doubt thinking she’d slip out the back. “Go get Sheriff Finn!” Buffy said urgently. Riley had told her under no uncertain terms last week that if she fired Mr. Giles’ shotgun again he would charge her with discharging a firearm in the town limits, and she couldn’t afford the fine he’d quoted at her. Greta nodded once and rushed out the front doors like her skirts were on fire.

Buffy searched the crowd frantically for Spike, finally spotting him as he shoved a well-dressed man to the floor, his face bloody. She skirted the edges of the melee, ducking behind a post as a chair came flying in her direction. “Spike!” She called frantically. Spike didn’t seem to hear her, exchanging blows with a man who stumbled after missing a punch and ended up crashing into a table, taking it down with him.

She saw Liam elbow someone in the stomach and duck down momentarily like he was reaching for something. Buffy’s eyes widened. She’d almost forgotten about his habit of carrying knives. Buffy felt her pulse quicken. “Spike!” She screamed. The cowboy heard her this time, his head whipping up and seeking her out.

“Get back, Buffy!” He yelled. Liam moved frighteningly fast for such a big man, slithering between combatants as he headed towards Spike.

“Liam!” Buffy shouted, ignoring him as she pointed out the Irishman. “He’s-” The rest of her sentence died in her throat as the small blade in Liam’s hand descended towards Spike’s unprotected back.

Either he’d understood her unspoken warning or some sixth sense kicked in, but Spike somehow managed to twist his body in a way that left Liam’s knife glancing off his shoulder blade instead of buried in his back. The drunk that Liam had shoved off his chair earlier noticed the glint of steel, picking up a broken chair leg and enthusiastically engaging Liam in what he apparently thought was an old fashioned swordfight. Liam seemed to be as confused as she was about what was happening, and Buffy had never been more grateful for the strange effects alcohol could have on a man.

She was gasping for breath, frantically looking for a way to get to Spike. She’d lost him again in the crowd of men. Liam was still being distracted by the drunk with the chair leg, who appeared to be laughing gleefully as he struck out against the bigger man. Buffy knew without seeing his face that Liam was going to be in a rage. She had to find Spike before something awful happened.

She took a step closer to the brawling men when someone caught her elbow. Buffy jerked out of their grasp, spinning around and preparing to defend herself. Summer blue eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat. “Spike!” She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck without thought. She felt Spike’s arms tighten around her waist.

“Got to get you out of here, kitten,” Spike gasped in her ear. “This place have a back door?”

Buffy released him, looking anxiously up at his bloodied face. “You’re hurt.”

Spike cupped her cheek momentarily. “I’m all right,” he promised. “Which way?”

Buffy grasped his hand and pulled him across the room as Mr. Giles’ voice rang out. He was up on one of the tables, shouting at everyone to stop. A few of the men seemed to be considering doing as he said as the doors swung open to admit Greta and the sheriff. Buffy pushed Spike behind the bar and through a nondescript door, praying that Riley hadn’t seen either of them. He would just think she’d fled to the back with the other girls and wouldn’t have a reason to come looking for Spike, she hoped.

“Buffy!” Anya said in surprise, straightening from her task. Pearl was collapsed in a chair, her eyes red-rimmed but dry and a damp cloth pressed to her cheek.

“Mr. Giles might need help,” Buffy said earnestly. “There was a fight. The sheriff is here.”

Anya sighed. “I thought I heard a ruckus.” She swept out the room without another word.

Pearl sniffed plaintively. “Are you all right?” Buffy asked softly.

Pearl wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Is Mr. Angelus still out there?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “I think so.”

Pearl stood up, dropping the cloth onto the scarred wooden table tucked into the corner of the small storage room. She turned to check her reflection in the battered mirror someone had propped against the wall and nodded, seemingly satisfied with her appearance. “Goodnight, then.” Pearl swept out without another word. Buffy watched her go with a sense of unease but she knew nothing she said would dissuade Pearl from doing what she pleased.

Spike snorted, drawing her attention again. His hand tightened around hers. “Poor, dumb bint.”

Buffy almost smiled before it slipped from her face and she turned, catching his chin and turning his face from one side to the other. “You’re bleeding,” she said in concern. Spike let her examine his face, his eyes steady on hers.

“Had worse.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “That is not reassuring. Sit down.” She gestured at the chair Pearl had just vacated and picked up the abandoned cloth, pulling a bowl of water Anya must have brought in closer to her. The water was still cold. Buffy dipped the rag in the water as Spike settled back into the chair with a wince of pain. She paused. “He got your back, too.”

Spike shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Buffy put one hand on her hip and glared at down at the man in front of her. He looked up with those deceptively innocent blue eyes but she refused to be swayed. “Get that jacket off. Let me have a look.” She gently pressed the rag to Spike’s face to clean off the blood as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“Bossy chit,” Spike said, sounding fond.

Buffy swept a thumb over his now-clean cheekbone, glad to see it didn’t appear to be more than a cut below one eye, most likely from one of Liam’s rings. “Well, your good looks aren’t in any danger,” she said before realizing what she’d just announced.

Spike smiled broadly at her and reached out, settling his hands on her hips and trying to pull her closer. “Glad to hear it, kitten.”

Buffy felt her face flush as she finished cleaning the dried blood off his nose and gestured at him to turn. “Let me see your back.”

Spike sighed but complied, turning around and straddling the chair with his long legs in a way that made her heart rate pick up. Buffy took a breath and concentrated on trying to find his other wound. She could see the darker patch on his shirt from the blood and frowned in concern, poking around a bit before giving up. “Shirt too,” she said briskly, like she often asked strange men to undress in the back room of saloons. Spike glanced over his shoulder at her.

“It’s fine, Buffy,” he said softly. “You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Buffy gently rested her hand on his back where she’d been sure Liam’s knife was originally going to end up, just behind Spike’s heart. She hoped he couldn’t feel the slight tremor in her hand. “Let me see?” she asked. “Please, Spike.”

Spike’s shirt rustled a bit as he unbuttoned it enough to peel away from his hurt shoulder. Buffy carefully pulled it and the fabric of his undershirt down until she found where he’d been cut. The gash was still bleeding sluggishly, but didn’t look deep. She imagined his jacket had taken the brunt of the blow. Buffy let her trembling fingers alight on his bare shoulder, feeling like the heat of his skin was searing her fingertips. She remembered how the rest of him had looked the day she’d caught him bathing in the creek and felt her blush deepen further.

“Your clothes are going to need mending,” Buffy said into the silence, trying to distract herself. His skin was smooth under her hand, and while his upper arm wasn’t as large as Liam’s, it was still sculpted and strong looking. She recalled how perfectly her head had fit into the hollow of his shoulder and smiled to herself, stroking the curve of his neck absently with her fingers. Spike shivered at her touch. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Spike said, his voice hoarse. “You think you might be able to fix up my togs?”

Buffy paused in her ministrations, mildly surprised. “I could, if you’d like, but I’m certainly no dressmaker.”

Spike’s hand came up to cover hers where she was resting it on his shoulder. “Be even better, knowing you were the one who patched ‘em for me.”

Buffy’s heart thumped loudly in her chest and she cast her eyes down to his wound once more. She didn’t understand why he spoke sometimes like she was more than just a passing fancy when they both knew he was only here until he’d taken his revenge on Liam. It made it that much harder to know she was going to have to let him go someday.

Buffy finished cleaning the blood off of his back and pulled his shirt up, turning to rinse the bloodied rag while Spike set his clothing to rights.

“Thanks, kitten,” he said gruffly as he stood up again. He reached out and drew her closer, his arms sliding around her waist. His expression was more serious than she was used to seeing. “You know it wasn’t me, yeah? I’m no cheat.”

Buffy looked up at him, startled. “Of course it wasn’t you.” She watched him relax a bit and smiled gently. “I’m well aware of what Liam is capable of.”

Spike frowned. “I’m sorry he was such a wanker to you earlier.”

“I don’t care what he says,” she said firmly. “Why did you agree to play with him, anyways?”

Spike smiled sheepishly. “Figured that sheriff prat would let me stay if Angelus wanted to beat me at cards, and that way I’d still get to see you.”

Buffy felt her insides melt a little at that. “Oh.”

One of Spike’s hands had migrated up to the nape of her neck where her hair was gathered. His fingers snuck into the braided strands as she tipped her head back, enjoying the way he touched her. His expression was one of affection and slight awe, like he was having trouble believing the two of them were standing together this way. His eyes were dark in the dim light as he bent his head towards her and she trembled in anticipation of his kiss, her eyes sliding closed.

“Buffy!” The door banged open and Anya was bustling into the room. She closed the door behind her and gave them both a knowing grin. “Sorry, honey, you’ve got to get him out of here.”

Buffy untangled herself from Spike’s arms and attempted to pat her hair back into place. “Is everything okay?”

Anya made an annoyed face. “No one’s really hurt, if that’s what you mean, but the sheriff’s looking for this one.” Anya nodded at Spike. “Mr. Angelus is blaming everything on him, and the others are too drunk to remember their own fool names.”

“That’s not fair!” Buffy almost stomped her foot in frustration.

“I know,” Anya said soothingly, picking up Spike’s jacket and handing it to him. Spike silently swung it over his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Buffy.

“I was going to mend that,” Buffy said, reaching for Spike again.

“Not tonight,” Anya said firmly. “He needs to get before the sheriff starts sniffing around back here.”

Spike reached out and grasped one of Buffy’s hands, bringing it up to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “I’ll see you again soon, kitten.”

“When?”

Spike gave her hand a squeeze and released it as Anya hustled him towards the back door of the saloon. “As soon as I can, Buffy.”

“Yes, great, she’s looking forward to it,” Anya said in a rush.

“Be careful,” Buffy added anxiously.

“Always,” Spike touched the brim of his hat and vanished into the night.

Buffy stood in the doorway for a long moment before she let Anya draw her back in. “Now, you have to get out there and put a smile on that face,” Anya said sternly. “If the sheriff asks, Spike left not long after he came in. I’ve already told him Mr. Angelus must have gotten Spike mixed up with another man, and since none of those idiots are sober I think the sheriff might be falling for it. I’ve told my girls to say the same.”

“Spike left earlier tonight,” Buffy repeated, straightening her shoulders. “Gotcha.”

“Good girl,” Anya said in approval. She smiled a little, her whole face softening. “He cares about you very much, Buffy. I like him.” They stepped out into a much more subdued saloon than the one she’d left. Mr. Giles was talking to Liam and the sheriff by the front doors and there were only a couple of Anya’s girls left. Buffy took her place behind the bar and Anya shot her a wink before going to join Mr. Giles.

Buffy had cleaned most of the dirty glasses by the time Riley finally came over to talk to her, his face stony. She hated that she had to lie to him, but he was the one who’d decided to side with Liam. Buffy met his eyes squarely and waited.

“Miss Buffy,” Riley said, nodding. “I hope you’re all right. Place has been rowdy since that cowboy came to town.”

“And Mr. Angelus.” Buffy couldn’t keep the words from slipping through her lips. She clamped her mouth shut again as the sheriff’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Mr. Angelus has every right to be here since he bought the old Chase ranch. He’s gonna put this place on the map, you’ll see.” Buffy nodded stiffly. She wasn’t going to win an argument with Riley when he refused to even see there was another side to it. Riley’s posture relaxed a little. “I was hoping you might have seen what happened earlier. I’m getting a lot of conflicting accounts.”

Buffy shrugged and wiped down her clean bar. The longer Riley was here the more time Spike had to hide himself away somewhere the sheriff wouldn’t find him. “It was a pretty typical night, Sheriff. You saw for yourself earlier.” Buffy glanced up. “Can I get you something to drink? You must be thirsty after having to talk to so many people.”

Riley seemed to relax further, even going so far as the lean against the bar. Buffy watched over his shoulder as Liam staggered out of the saloon, holding onto one of his men in order to stay upright. There was only one group playing cards now, and the piano was silent.

“Sure,” Riley replied. “A beer would be nice, Miss Buffy.” He took his hat off and set it on the wooden counter, reaching a hand up to make sure his hair wasn’t untidy. Buffy decided she preferred the way Spike left his hair messy and wild-looking. It suited him, and he didn’t seem to mind when she ran her fingers through it. Riley, she was sure, would not appreciate her tousling his carefully combed hair.

Buffy slid a full glass across the bar and shook her head as Riley dug into his pockets for payment. “No, I’m sure Mr. Giles wouldn’t take payment for this one. Thanks for helping out. I was worried about…everyone’s safety.” 

Riley took a drink of his beer and smiled at her. “You really are too sweet to be working here.”

Buffy lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty who’d disagree, Sheriff, but thank you. Now, you wanted to know what happened earlier?”

Riley seemed a little disappointed that she’d once again brushed off a compliment, but she had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Eventually, she would just have to be straight with him, she saw that now. He needed to know she’d never allow him to court her so he could set his sights on someone else.

“If you could recall anything it’d be mighty helpful, Miss Buffy.”

“You remember there were several men playing cards? Well, Spike, I mean Mr. Spike,” Buffy corrected herself quickly before the sheriff could. “I guess he ran out of money or something, because he left, but then something happened over at Mr. Angelus’ table and everyone just started hitting each other. It was a madhouse for a few minutes. I heard them all accusing different men of cheating.”

Riley was frowning slightly. “Mr. Spike left prior to all this?”

Buffy nodded earnestly. “He was long gone.”

“Mr. Angelus seemed to think it was Mr. Spike who was cheating at cards.”

Buffy busied herself pouring the sheriff another glass of beer and slid it over the bar to him with a charming smile. “There was a lot of drinking going on tonight. I’m pretty sure if you told them their own mothers were cheating at cards they’d believe it.”

Riley nodded his thanks and picked up his second beer as he settled his hat on his head again. “I see. Thank you again, Miss Buffy.” He turned and started for the front doors.

“Anytime, Sheriff.” Buffy watched him talk to Mr. Giles for another moment before he left his empty glass on a table and left the saloon. Anya caught her eye, nodding slightly, and Buffy felt all the tension drain from her limbs. Now she just had to wait for Mr. Giles to shoo her out and she could head home.

_***_

_Present Day_

Willow absently passed the ice cream container back to Dawn. The television was on low in the background again and it sounded like some kind of gunfight was happening. Neither Willow nor Dawn spared it a glace, both staring at the two comatose bodies on the couch.

Dawn sighed. “Are you sure-“

“They’ll wake up, they have to!” Willow said quickly. “It’s not like a…a sleep forever spell or anything.”

Dawn eyed her skeptically before handing the ice cream back. It was the only one she’d been able to find in the freezer. She suspected there was a stash hidden in there somewhere because whenever Dawn went looking for the good stuff she saw her mom eat she could only find the generic brand. “What do you think he’s dreaming about?”

“Uh…” Willow slanted an anxious look at Dawn.

Dawn made a disgusted face. “Gross, I meant _besides_ that, jeez, Willow. I mean, if there’s a conclusion or whatever you said was supposed to happen doesn’t there have to be a story?”

Willow wrinkled her nose. “I guess?” She shrugged. “I really thought it was only going to take, like, five minutes for him to talk himself into getting dusted.”

Dawn snorted a laugh. “With Buffy staking him? Try five seconds.” Dawn frowned at the couch again. “Maybe time moves differently or something.”

Willow shifted uneasily in her chair and took the ice cream back from Dawn. “Sure, that must be it.” 

Dawn sighed in annoyance. “Buffy always has to make such a big deal out of everything.”


	9. In Stitches

Buffy took her time walking home, trying to clear her head. She wished again that she could just tell the sheriff what kind of man Liam really was, but Riley would never believe her now. She hated how easily everyone always fell under Liam’s spell, and sometimes she hated her old, naïve self just a bit too.

When the lights of the boarding house came into view, Buffy let out a little sigh. She’d been half-expecting Spike to pop up out of the shadows and walk her home, but of course she knew that was silly. He was long gone by now and hopefully holed up somewhere safe until this latest problem blew over.

Buffy pulled her wrap more tightly around her shoulders as she mounted the porch steps, barely hearing the familiar creaks under her feet. There was a chill in the air that hadn’t been there last week. Autumn had definitely arrived. She was reaching for the doorknob when a shadow detached itself from the wall of the house and stepped towards her. Buffy jumped back with a startled shriek of surprise as Spike’s face was illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight coming from inside. “Just me, kitten, don’t wake them all.”

Buffy’s heart was pounding a mile a minute as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Spike!” she whispered fiercely. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

Spike took a step closer, reaching out to grasp her hand and drawing her into the deep shadows he’d been hiding in. She sat beside him on the bench looking out towards the lights of town and saw his white teeth flash as he smiled. “Wasn’t my intention.”

Buffy got her galloping heartbeat under control and pressed more closely against his side, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, of course.”

“I thought you’d be finding a place to hide from the sheriff?”

“Doubt he’ll come snooping around your front porch,” Spike said, sounding amused.

Buffy snorted. “Well, not to look for you, that’s true.”

She felt his hand tighten around her fingers. “Are you and he-”

“No,” Buffy said quickly. “No, we’re nothing of the sort, Spike. He’s just no good at taking hints.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Spike murmured, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. His thumb was drawing small circles on the back of her hand and she let her mind drift for a moment, imagining that this was their front porch and that they’d just come out to watch the stars for a while before heading in together. Buffy forced herself to stop before she slipped further into her silly, schoolgirl fantasy. That life was well out of her reach now, although Dawn still had a chance.

“How’s your back feeling?” Buffy asked softly.

She felt Spike press a kiss to the top of her head and a slow shiver worked its way from there down to her toes. “It’s fine, love. Thanks for fixing me up like you did.”

“Spike?” Buffy said tentatively. “What’s going to happen when you...I mean, after you deal with Liam?”

She felt his shoulder lift under her cheek before lowering again. “I don’t know, Buffy” he said, his voice low. “I wish I could tell you different, but I don’t know what’s going to happen and I…I’m not one to make promises I can’t keep.”

Buffy swallowed around the lump in her throat. She nodded slightly, staring out over the porch railing past the dark shapes of the trees that shaded the front of the house. The stars were bright in the night sky. She’d always liked the quiet of the nighttime, how it was so easy to push aside the expectations of the rest of the world when they couldn’t be seen. “I understand,” she whispered, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.  Some of it must have seeped through though, because Spike was tipping her head back, his fingers gentle on her chin.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“I know,” Buffy replied as his fingers swept across her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s Liam’s. He-”

“Isn’t here right now,” Spike said firmly. He was silent for a moment as his fingers mapped out her face. She couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, just the shape of his face, a lighter grey in the deep shadows. “So lovely, you are. You know that, Buffy?” His thumb traced along the line of her lower lip and her eyes slid closed.

“I’m not-” He stopped her protest with a kiss, his lips soft against hers as she rested a hand on his chest and he curled a hand into her hair. This one was different from the feverish ones they’d shared by the creek. It was long and slow, drawing out the pleasure in a way she’d never experienced before. She wanted to ask him not to go after Liam, to promise that he’d stay alive so that she’d never have to learn to live without him. They were things she couldn’t say to him, though, so she just let Spike deepen the kiss, hoping he might be able to read her mind as he lit a fire within her.

When they finally parted Buffy was disoriented for a moment, trying to remember where she was. Oh yes, home, on the front porch. “I should probably go inside before I’m missed,” Buffy said regretfully. She knew the others were tucked in their beds but Tara was a light sleeper, and it was already much later than Buffy usually got home.

Spike leaned forward and pressed one last, lingering kiss to her lips before standing and helping her up, his hand gently holding hers again. “Best get inside then, love.”

Buffy didn’t want to let go of him at all. She stared up at his face, his features hidden by the dark, and remembered how tenderly he’d looked at her tonight in the back room of the saloon, before Anya had interrupted them. She wondered if they might have had a chance had she met him in any other way, if Liam had never happened. “Oh, your coat! I could mend it if you wanted to leave it with me, but the night’s a bit chilled and-”

Spike stopped her mouth with a finger and she saw him shrugging out of his long duster, slinging it over one arm. “I’ll be warm enough. Found a place to sleep inside tonight.” She saw a flash of white teeth again. “All right if I come back to collect it tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Buffy stroked the thick canvas of his coat before gently taking it and hugging it close to her chest. She could feel the residual warmth seeping into her fingers. “Wait,” she said suddenly. Spike hadn’t stepped away yet but she noticed him still completely, his attention entirely on her, and her heart gave a happy thump. “There’s a…the Madison’s are hosting a party tomorrow, to celebrate their new barn. It was just finished last week. We’ll all be going there tomorrow evening.”

Spike reached up and moved a loose strand of her hair away from her temple. “Afterwards, then.”

Buffy nodded, already mourning how long it would be before she saw him again. “You’ll be all right tonight, you’re sure?”

“Stop fretting, kitten.” Spike stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Buffy watched him jump over the creaky front porch steps and land with a soft thump on the dirt before he headed for the corner of the house, away from town. He must have tied his horse in the trees beyond Tara’s garden. Buffy watched until he was out of sight before she brought the coat up and inhaled deeply. It smelled just like him. She wished for a moment she didn’t share a room with her sister so she could take it to bed with her, but that would raise questions she wasn’t sure she had the answers to just yet.

“Goodnight, William,” she whispered into the darkness. With a sigh, Buffy turned on her heel and went inside, carefully hanging the coat beside the others just inside the door. That might pique some curiosity but at least it wouldn’t seem strange once she explained it needed mending. Buffy blew out the lamps as she went upstairs, her mind still on the front porch with Spike sitting beside her while they watched the stars.  

***

Buffy was up earlier than usual the next morning and found Tara out in the garden inspecting the dying squash vines for the last of their crops. The sun was bright in the clear sky and the air was crisp. It was the perfect sort of day for a party. “Can I help with anything?” Buffy called from the kitchen door.

Tara waved a careless hand. “I was just coming in. Dawn wouldn’t stop chattering about the party tonight. I think Willow’s going to be sick to death of hearing about it before they make it home again.”

Buffy laughed. “She’s like that about everything. I think she’d manage to talk the ears off an elephant.”

Tara came back inside with a handful of squash and grinned at Buffy as she set them aside for later. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Buffy contemplated this, but the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach last night were still out in full force. “Maybe later,” she decided. “I’ll be in the parlor if you need me.” She made her way to the foyer and collected Spike’s jacket, checking in the direction of the kitchen before she buried her nose in it and drew a breath. She was getting ridiculous about this man, she thought with a roll of her eyes as she lowered the bundle in her arms and went to hunt up her sewing box. If her mother was alive to catch her mooning around like this she’d have given Buffy extra chores to keep her mind better occupied.

She finally found her mending kit shoved behind several skeins of yarn Tara had recently bought and pulled it out, brushing off the dust that had accumulated on it. She thought guiltily of the pile of things she and Dawn needed to have mended, but decided this was more important. It had been cold last night, she rationalized, and she and Dawn still had at least one pair of decent underthings each.

Buffy settled onto the couch and draped Spike’s jacket across her knees, locating the slice Liam’s knife had made and stroking the fabric gently for a moment in apology. The coat seemed newer than she’d first thought and Buffy wondered how long Spike had been searching for Liam before they’d both ended up in her town. The tear would be easily mended, she saw with relief, shaking the coat out so the lining was facing up. She carefully selected her sturdiest needle and began to look for the perfect color of thread, not wanting the repair to show more than it had to. She was so occupied with her project that Tara’s gentle throat clearing had her jumping in surprise.

“I was wondering who that belonged to,” Tara said softly, her eyes on the jacket. “What happened?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nothing good.” Tara sat opposite her on a chair and picked up the embroidery she kept nearby, silently encouraging Buffy to continue. “Mr. Angelus started another fight last night.”

“With Mr. Spike?” Tara held out a spool of thread that was darker in color than any of Buffy’s. “Try this one.”

Buffy nodded her thanks and saw with satisfaction that it was nearly invisible against the coat. “Perfect. Yes, with Spike.”

“Is he all right?”

Buffy frowned. “I think so. Liam accused him of cheating at cards, which was a complete falsehood,” Buffy said indignantly. “But when Spike denied it, Liam tried to stab him.”

Tara’s needlework was lying forgotten in her lap as she listened avidly. “Oh my, Buffy! That place is getting more dangerous by the day.” 

“Now you sound like Riley.” Buffy smiled to take the sting out of her words. “But at least you believed me when I said that Liam wasn’t a good man.”

“Of course he’s not,” Tara said indignantly. “No decent man would take such advantage of young woman and treat them so poorly.” She paused for a moment, picking up her needle and examining the project in her lap. “Mr. Spike is still being kind to you?”

Buffy concentrated on getting the first of her stitches in just the right spot, her lips curving up almost involuntarily as she remembered the amazing way he’d kissed her on the porch. “Yes. He made sure I arrived home safely last night.”

“Good,” Tara said, starting on her own stitchery. They sat in companionable silence for a while, each absorbed in her task. Buffy tried to keep her stitches small and as close together as possible, but the thick material wasn’t easy to work with.

“Ow,” Buffy hissed, sticking a finger in her mouth.

Tara handed her a thimble. “It’s been a while since I saw you mend anything.” Buffy caught the teasing twinkle in Tara’s eye and blushed.

“I just thought it’d be a nice thing to do.”

“Of course you did,” Tara said in an amused tone. “Is he coming to the Madison’s tonight?”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she sighed. “Liam told the sheriff the fight last night was all Spike’s fault and now Riley’s looking for him again.”

Tara gazed at her sympathetically. “He certainly seems to be excellent at getting himself into trouble, Buffy. Are you sure it’s worth it?”

“Yes,” Buffy said without hesitation. She couldn’t stop thinking about those tiny, stolen moments, when he would look at her with such tenderness that it took her breath away. “He is.”

***

“Dawn, we’re leaving without you if you don’t come down this instant!” Buffy called up the stairs. She rolled her eyes for the benefit of Willow and Tara, who were waiting patiently by the door. Buffy had finally managed to mend Spike’s jacket with a minimum of injury to herself and hung it back up in the foyer. She’d stitched her initials between the canvas and the inner lining before finishing off the repairwork, feeling inexplicably better that at least that small piece of her would always be with him.

“I’m coming!” Dawn hollered back. She’d been upstairs almost since the moment she got home from school and Buffy had already helped her redo her hair three times while Tara let out the hem of one of Dawn’s favorite dresses. Sometimes Buffy wondered how they were actually sisters at all, they were so different: one fair-haired, one dark; one short of stature while the other shot up like a weed. About the only thing they reflected in each other was an unfortunate tendency toward stubbornness, which Dawn was currently exhibiting in spades. “Hold your horses!”

“They’re just about ready to be put out to pasture we’ve been standing here so long,” Buffy yelled back. “Come on, Dawn!”

Dawn appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair done up in completely different configuration than the last one Buffy had helped with. “I’m said I was coming!” Dawn protested, carelessly tossing her wrap over one shoulder as she thundered down the stairs. “Stop hollering at me.”

“Tara’s casserole’s getting cold,” Buffy reprimanded. “Put your wrap on properly.”

Dawn rolled her eyes but complied before following Tara out the door. Buffy ended up walking beside Willow, both of them settling into a leisurely stroll. She watched Dawn chatter animatedly to Tara as they all headed up the road to the Madison’s, Dawn setting an eager pace that had her pulling ahead of her sister. Willow glanced Buffy’s way several times before finally speaking. “Tara said you did some mending for Mr. Spike today?”

“I did.”

Willow pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Because he was in another fight?”

Buffy huffed an irritated breath. “It wasn’t his fault, no matter what people are saying.”

“That’s not what I was getting at.” Willow smiled slightly. “I imagine he’s not the monster people are making him out to be or you wouldn’t be so protective of him. I’d just hate to see you get hurt, Buffy.”

Buffy hunched her shoulders a little, pulling her wrap around her more tightly. “I don’t think that’s his intention.”

“He’s planning on staying then, and straightening things out with the sheriff?”

Buffy was quiet for a long minute. “No, probably not,” she finally admitted.

“Oh, Buffy.” Willow’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m sure if you just talked to Riley and explained things about Mr. Angelus he’d understand.”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s too late,” she said quietly. “He’s made up his mind about both Spike and Mr. Angelus, and I doubt he’d think very highly of me afterwards if I did tell him everything.”

“I don’t think…” Willow’s voice trailed off as she frowned thoughtfully. They could hear the music from the Madison’s farm carrying across field they were skirting around. Willow sighed. “It’s a possibility,” she amended. “But wouldn’t it be worth it to have his help in keeping Dawn safe from Mr. Angelus?”

“Maybe,” Buffy admitted. “Do you think he would listen?”

“I bet he would.” Willow smiled encouragingly. “Xander said they were both planning to be here tonight.”

“It’s Xander now, not Mr. Harris?” Buffy asked, glad to have a change of subject. She would have to mull over Willow’s advice before making her decision. If she told Riley about what had actually happened between her and Liam the sheriff would probably look at her with much the same contempt as he seemed to show Anya and there was no telling if he’d feel inclined to keep it secret from anyone else. Buffy felt a momentary stab of regret that this revel might be the last she’d attend where people still thought well of her.       

Willow blushed. “He says it’s a childhood nickname his friends all use.”

“It suits him.” Buffy smiled at her friend. “He seems like a decent sort.”

“He is,” Willow agreed. “You know, he and Riley are good friends. Maybe we could all-”

“No, thank you,” Buffy shook her head before Willow could finish. Just the thought of tolerating the attentions of a man that wasn’t Spike had her insides twisting into knots. “I think it’s best not to encourage him.”

“The sheriff’s really a kind fellow, Buffy,” Willow said, her expression concerned. “And he would never…well. He’s not the sort to up and disappear in the middle of the night.”

“He’s not like Spike, you mean?” Buffy asked softly.

Willow sighed. “Yes, exactly. I know you’re sweet on that cowboy, but I wish you’d picked someone more deserving of your attentions.”

“He’s a good man, Willow. Maybe no one else can see it, but it’s there if you’d care to look. Can’t you at least give him a chance? For me?”

The large barn that was the reason for the Madison’s party loomed up in front of them. The rough-hewn planks covering the frame were pale and unseasoned and the smell of newly-cut lumber still hung in the air. Several tables had been set out in the space between the house and the new structure, and half the town looked to be in attendance. People were milling around and chattering while children ran shouting through the crowd and into the surrounding fields. Someone had brought a guitar, and the melody they were playing was bright and happy. Buffy felt a sharp sting of regret that she wouldn’t ever enjoy these kinds of things with Spike, not if he continued to pursue his revenge against Liam.

“If the opportunity arises, I’ll do my best,” Willow said, sounding doubtful.

“Thank you.” Buffy nudged Willow’s arm with her elbow. “I think Xander’s spotted you.” The dark-haired blacksmith was watching their progress across the yard, his grin widening as the man beside him slapped him on the back and laughed.

Tara had managed to find space for their contributions on the tables that were already groaning with food and turned, seeking them out. “Dawn went to go find Agnes. I told her not to stray too far.”

“Thanks, Tara. Any idea what all her fussing is about?”

“Well.” Tara smiled conspiratorially. “She did mention the oldest Madison boy at least a dozen times on the way over here.”

Willow giggled and hid a smile with one hand. “Aaron? She’s going to terrify him. That boy’s the only one of them with a lick of sense.”

“How old is he?” Buffy asked, scanning the crowd for the usual gaggle of Madison boys and their friends. Amy waved eagerly from her seat by the tables, one hand resting on her rotund stomach. Buffy waved back and started in the hostess’s direction.

“He’s sixteen,” Willow replied, falling into step beside Buffy. Tara beat them both to Amy, inquiring after the woman’s health as well as the rest of her family. “And really not a bad kid, considering.”

“Maybe he’ll be a good influence on her, then,” Buffy said, amused. Their conversation shifted to the topic of babies and children as they joined Amy and Tara, with Willow cooing over the possibility of a girl and Tara offering to cook Amy something special after the birth. Buffy watched the crowd, content to listen to her friends enjoy each other’s company. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at home someplace. Her mother would have been proud if she could see the lives her daughters were making for themselves.

“Hello, ladies.” Xander appeared beside Willow, one hand briefly touching the brim of his hat. “How are you all?

“Mr. Harris,” Willow nodded, her face flushing slightly. “We’re well, how are you this evening?”

 “Excellent, thank you.” Xander beamed at her. “You see the new barn yet? I helped put it up.”

“It’s wonderful,” Willow assured him. “Looks very sturdy.”

Amy waved them off as another group of party-goers started to exclaim over her pregnancy. The foursome headed for the barn, led by Xander. Buffy listened with half an ear as he explained how it’d been pulled up a section at a time before demonstrating the smoothness of the hinges he’d crafted for the various stalls inside. Willow was hanging onto his every word and Tara seemed to be paying some attention as well. The interior was large and the ceiling was high. The fading afternoon light spilled through the open doorway and cast a golden glow on everything in its path. A familiar giggle caught Buffy’s ear and she glanced up at the hayloft just as a handful of loose straw came tumbling down.

“Dawn Henrietta Summers!” Buffy called out sharply. “Get down here this instant!”

The others looked back at Buffy, seemingly startled, but she simply crossed her arms and waited as her sister’s feet appeared after what sounded like a frantic, hissed conversation.

“Um, I was just looking around the barn!” Dawn said hurriedly as she scrambled down the ladder, yanking her wrap up over her shoulders. Buffy lifted her eyebrows and waited. Dawn shifted from foot to foot and avoided her sister’s eyes.

“Aaron?” Buffy finally said, making sure her voice carried. “Why don’t you come down and join us?” Willow covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh and Xander’s eyes widened comically. Tara shook her head, also fighting a smile, and slipped out of the barn.

There was silence for a moment as Dawn’s face slowly turned red. “Um, yes ma’am,” a nervous voice responded from above. A few seconds later a frightened-looking boy was standing next to Dawn, who had defiantly lifted her chin. Buffy sighed. “Uh, I was just…”

“Aaron Robert!” A voice cut through the air in the barn, startling all of them. Amy came striding through the barn door, one hand on her bulging belly and the other tucked under Tara’s arm. Aaron looked like he was wishing he could sink through the floor. “Get over here, young man.” Dawn seemed to deflate as Aaron scurried over to join his mother, who immediately grasped his ear and dragged him from the barn. Buffy could hear the boy yelping apologies as they crossed the yard. Tara nodded at Buffy, smiling slightly, before heading back to the party. Willow and Xander had already made themselves scarce.

“Dawn,” Buffy sighed.

“Nothing happened, I swear!” Dawn protested. “He really was just showing me the barn! And then I said I wanted to see the hayloft and he didn’t want to at first but I made him and…” she trailed off, looking towards the open door. “He’s not ever going to talk to me again.” She sounded so glum Buffy had to work to keep her expression stern.

“You have to be careful, Dawn,” Buffy started. “You can’t just…”

“I know!” Dawn cut in. “I know, Buffy. But he’s not like Liam, I promise.”

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe that’s true,” Buffy said softly, even though it wasn’t long ago she would have told Dawn that every man was just like Liam, underneath. Still, if Dawn was going to have the normal life Buffy couldn’t, she needed to understand. “But you can’t drag boys off to the hayloft and expect people not to talk, Dawn. Why couldn’t you just ask him for a dance later?”

Dawn flushed a deeper red. “Um, he said he hates dancing.”

“All boys say that.” This time Buffy gave into her need to smile. “You just have to persuade them otherwise.”

Dawn gave Buffy a cautiously hopeful look. “You’re not mad?”

Buffy snorted. “Oh, I’m mad all right, but I’m fairly sure Amy’s going to put the fear of god into that boy and you’ll be lucky if he so much as looks at you again tonight. I think that might be punishment enough for now.”

Dawn’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not fair. I bet you snuck off with boys when you were my age!”

“And look where that got me,” Buffy said firmly. “This is for your own good, Dawn. Now let’s go see if there’s any of Tara’s casserole left.” Dawn hesitated a moment longer before nodding and following her sister out of the barn and into the darkening twilight. Buffy reached up to tuck a stray hair back into her sister’s hairstyle. “I just want you to have a better life than me, Dawn, that’s all.”

“I thought we were already doing pretty good,” Dawn huffed.

“Then I guess you should listen to me more, since I’ve gotten us this far.” Buffy laughed as Dawn let out a groan.

“Buffy!” Willow called the sisters over towards one of the tables, passing them each a plate of something that smelled delicious. “I got you some before everyone realized Tara’d made it,” the redhead said conspiratorially.

Buffy smiled at her friend. “Should we save any for Xander?” Dawn giggled around a forkful of casserole and Willow blushed slightly.

“He’s already had his share. He’s just over there, with Riley.” Willow pointed with her utensil and Buffy turned her head slightly, hoping Riley wouldn’t notice her peeking in his direction. She really wanted to steer clear of him tonight. Buffy made a neutral humming noise that she hoped would discourage any further scheming on Willow’s part to match her up with the sheriff.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized Xander would be in on the scheme, too. Just as Buffy finished her casserole the guitar player started playing something more dance friendly, and Xander was dragging Riley across the yard toward where she and Willow were sitting. Buffy stood quickly. “Um, I just need to…I forgot something. Sorry!” She fled before Willow could reply and looked around frantically. A few couples were dancing now, and there weren’t a lot of places for her to hide. The barn caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and she paused. It had almost worked for Dawn…she’d just have to be sneakier than her sister.

Buffy slipped into the empty structure and gathered her skirts in one hand, nimbly climbing the ladder to the hayloft. Her heart was pounding and she was sure her cheeks were flushed. She felt almost giddy, trying to remember the last time she did something so silly, and yet she decided she didn’t care a whit about the lengths she was going to avoid the sheriff.

She swung onto the platform, already piled high with hay, and crouched by the edge, peering down through the gloom at the open door. She was sure she saw the shadow of someone coming towards it, and wondered if Riley had saw her go in. She was staring so intently she almost fell over when a voice sounded in her ear.

“Who are we hiding from?” Spike whispered, peering down towards the barn floor. Buffy had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her squeak of surprise, Riley suddenly forgotten. She was certain that she must look like a besotted idiot, the way she was looking at Spike, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his face. The grey shadows of twilight hid most of his features, but it was easy to see his teasing grin. “Not me, I hope.”

“Never,” Buffy whispered back. She found herself leaning forward almost involuntarily as he reached for her, one arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer as footsteps echoed in the mostly empty barn. They both watched silently as Riley looked around, fiddling with his hat in his hands, before leaving the way he came in. Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding and sagged against Spike.

“Best stay up here for a while,” Spike murmured in her ear. “Can’t have some other bloke chasing after my girl.”

Buffy found herself nodding before she’d fully processed his words, and when she did she couldn’t hold back a grin of her own. “I think you’d have to successfully catch me yourself, first.”

Spike laughed.


	10. The Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a drill! Sorry it took so long but it's back and there should be a chapter a week going up until it's actually complete.

“What are you doing up here?” Buffy whispered, keeping her voice down in case someone else came in.

“Calculating my odds of getting through that crowd for some grub without anyone noticing.” Spike shrugged. “Before Mr. Too-Big-for-His-Britches came in I was thinking the odds were fairly decent.”

“Oh.” Buffy felt her thumping heart slow down a little. It was ridiculous to think he’d been waiting up here for her. After all, he couldn’t have expected her to just climb into a strange hayloft. She tried to keep any disappointment from creeping into her tone. “I could get you something, if you’d like?”

Spike smiled at her in the dim light, his teeth whiter than the rest of his face. “Trying to get away already? And here I thought you were happy to see me.”

“I was! I mean, I am, but I can…” Buffy trailed off a trifle breathlessly as Spike twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. The back of his hand gently brushed against her cheek and she shivered involuntarily while reminding herself that she’d just barely finished explaining to Dawn the dangers of getting caught in a hayloft with a man.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight.” Spike’s voice was deep and warm.

Of course, Buffy rationalized, that was _if_ you got caught. Buffy found herself leaning into him instead of away as she’d intended. “Everything looks beautiful in the moonlight,” she replied playfully. “It’s one of nighttime’s best qualities. Keeps the saloon in business.”

Spike snorted a laugh and settled back against a straw bale, extending one hand in invitation. Buffy gathered her skirts and settled down next to him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder as he laced their fingers together. His other arm crept around her waist, holding her close. Buffy took a breath, inhaling the scent of leather and tobacco that seemed such an integral part of him. It wasn’t an unusual combination, especially not in the saloon, but he somehow made it seem thrilling. Working at Mr. Giles’ was going to be torture when he decided to leave town.

But that was sometime in the future, Buffy told herself firmly. Now, she should enjoy his company, not waste it being worried about things she couldn’t change. She tilted her head back a bit more so she could see his face. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.

Spike stroked one thumb over her cheek. “Me too, kitten.” He smiled slightly. “Sorry I can’t join you out there like a proper bloke.”

Buffy smiled back, tucking her legs to one side and pressing herself more tightly against him. “Maybe you can make it up to me,” she suggested impishly, moving her lips closer to his. 

Spike’s smile widened. “You have something in mind?” He made no move to kiss her, even though she was certain she’d made it quite clear that it wouldn’t be unwelcome.

Buffy huffed impatiently and Spike chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound. She started to pull back, her face flushing, feeling foolish. “No, I…”

Spike held her fast, his laughter dying away. “Nothing I’d like better than to make things up to you,” he soothed. “For as long as you’d let me.” His fingers sliding into her hair just behind one ear while his thumb traced the line of her jaw. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed against his mouth and relaxed into his embrace.

He surprised her a moment later, pulling back to cup her face in his hands as she braced herself against the solid wall of his chest. “Spike?” she whispered worriedly. Was he tired of her already? A brief, traitorous thought ran through her head as she wondered where, exactly, he’d spent the night. Somewhere that wouldn’t require a coat, he’d said. Her stomach began to roil. “What-”

He shushed her gently and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Buffy,” he said. The reverent way he said her name made her insides untwist a little. It reminded her of the first night she’d laid eyes on him. Had it been just days since then? It felt like she’d known him for years, and her whole being ached for him in a way she’d never felt in her entire life.  

“I…” Spike paused, seemingly searching for words. “ _Out from behind this bending, rough-cut mask, all straighter, liker masks rejected—this preferr’d.”_ he murmured. Buffy listened intently, trying to puzzle out the meaning. His voice was pitched low, as though the words were coming from the deepest parts of himself. She bowed her head so that her face was pressed against the soft skin of his neck. She kissed him there, silently encouraging him to continue. He cleared his throat and went on, his voice slightly stronger as he resettled his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “ _This common curtain of the face, contain’d in me for me, in you for you…”_

Buffy lost herself in the cadence of his recitation, wondering how she’d ever ended up here, in the arms of this strangely sweet, complicated man. The poem wound to a close and she lifted her head after a moment. “Thank you,” she said.

Spike’s smile was slightly crooked. “Should be thanking the American who wrote it. Man’s a genius.”

It was Buffy’s turn to hold his face between her hands. “No, thank you, Spike, for showing me you.” Spike stared at her, his eyes deep and dark in the moonlight. She leaned in and kissed him softly, their lips barely meeting as she traced the contours of his face with her fingertips.

Spike let out a tiny, groaning noise against her mouth and deepened the kiss, coaxing her into parting her lips so he could tangle his tongue with hers. She pressed herself more tightly against him, silently cursing the layers of clothing between them even as she knew they should stop before someone discovered them. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck as he tipped them over into a pile of straw. She let out a giggle that he quickly stopped with his mouth again as he settled over her, one of his hands skating down her side to rest on her hip. She could feel gooseflesh rising under her corset, as though his hand was touching her actual skin.

“I’ve another,” Spike managed between kisses.

“Mm-hmm?” Buffy replied, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

 _“O you whom I often and silently come,”_ Spike gasped into her ear as he trailed kisses up her jaw.

Buffy had managed to slip her hands under the trailing end of his shirt and was almost too busy discovering what this new, lovely spot of skin felt like to listen. She missed a few lines while her fingers explored the plane of his back and then he groaned against her ear before whispering the final words. “… _the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.”_

Buffy’s skirts were tangled around her legs and Spike was a perfect weight on top of her. She felt like she’d float away without him there to anchor her. “Spike,” she gasped as he slid his hands into her hair and seized her lips with a rough kiss.

“Are you sure you saw her go in here?” A loud voice echoed through the barn, interrupting their heated kisses. Buffy lay as still as possible, trying to control her breathing. She felt like she’d just tried to outrun a horse, her heart was pounding so hard. Spike was frozen above her, his forehead resting against her shoulder and his breath heating up her bosom. She curled her hands tightly into the fabric of his shirt and regretfully remembered where they were.

“Pretty sure,” a familiar voice replied. Buffy closed her eyes in resignation. Riley. She was going to have to set him straight. Tonight.

“Maybe she was making sure Dawn was staying out of trouble,” the other person replied. This time Buffy recognized the voice as Xander’s.

“What happened with Dawn?” Riley asked curiously.

“Just kid stuff,” Xander replied dismissively. “Buffy and Amy took care of it.”

“She takes on too much between that wild sister of hers and the saloon,” Riley declared. Buffy let out a tiny, annoyed sigh. Spike softly kissed the hollow of her throat.

“Dawn’s just got a mind of her own, that’s all,” Xander responded cheerfully. “They’ll be fine. She’s nearly grown.” Buffy silently thanked Xander for his support, her fingers absently combing through Spike’s unruly hair. “Want to check the house again? I bet we just missed her.”

Riley blew out a heavy sigh. “Sure.” Their heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding and Spike lifted his head, looking down at her with a sheepish expression. “Got a bit carried away there, kitten, sorry.” He lifted himself off of her and pulled her upright with him, reaching up to pick a few pieces of straw out of her hair. Buffy swallowed her disappointment. He was right, they shouldn’t get caught doing these kinds of things in her neighbor’s hayloft, of all places. “Sort of starting thinking of it as mine, since I spent the night in it.”

What was left of the knot in Buffy’s stomach loosened entirely. “I guess I should get back,” she said, resigned.

Spike leaned forward slightly, his mouth grazing her ear. “Right now?”

A shiver worked its way up Buffy’s spine. “Well, soon,” she amended breathlessly.

“Care for a moonlight stroll?”

“I’d love one.”

Spike grinned at her in the semi-darkness and held out his hand, helping her to her feet easily. She wondered who he’d been before his mission of revenge, the other side of himself he seemed to keep mostly hidden. William, who’d had a mother and a sister, who’d been on sea voyages, and who recited poetry as easily as she pinned up her hair in the morning.  “Let’s get before your sheriff comes back.”

“He’s not my sheriff,” Buffy said, exasperated. “I told you that.”

“Someone ought to tell him that,” Spike muttered darkly.

Buffy looked at him curiously as she finished straightening her skirts. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it almost sounded as though Spike was jealous of Riley’s interest in her, even though she’d never encouraged the sheriff in the slightest. She bit her lower lip for moment, perplexed, before speaking. “I didn’t…no one ever asked me if I was sweet on him, they just decided one day that I should be, I guess.”

“And are you?” Spike’s expression was unreadable as he plucked his hat from the floor of the hayloft and settled it on his head.

“Am I what?” Buffy asked, baffled. “Oh! No, I told you Spike, I never asked for his attentions.” She waited, but Spike’s expression didn’t change. It was so stony she almost prodded him to be sure he was still listening. “I was going to ask him to leave me be tonight,” she added softly, laying a hand on Spike’s arm.

She felt his entire body relax as he looked at her, his face expressive once more. One of his eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

She smiled, wishing they had more time so she could pull him back down and kiss that unhappy frown until it disappeared. “I’ve been wanting to tell him all week.”

The edges of Spike’s mouth turned up as he made his way to the edge of the hayloft and peered over. “Well, you’ll have to wait a bit longer, coast is clear.”

Buffy scrambled down the ladder first, reaching a hand up to check her hair absently as Spike followed after her. It was tousled but no more so than if she’d been dancing. Spike leapt off the ladder a couple of rungs from the bottom and spun around to face her with a flourish as he landed. She giggled as he offered her his arm like they were strolling through town instead of sneaking out of a hayloft together. She could hear voices and laughter coming from the yard where the crowd was gathered, but the noise faded into the distance as they walked out of the barn and away from the Madison house.

“I’m sorry,” Spike offered after a long stretch of silence. “I shouldn’t have…I’ve got no right to question who’s in your life, kitten. Not when I…” He stopped abruptly and though Buffy waited as patiently as she knew how, he didn’t continue.

The stars were bright overhead, and the moon was full enough that they didn’t have to be too careful with their footing. Spike stopped a fair distance from the barn and tipped his head back to look up at the night sky. Buffy watched him, instead. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she took in his sharp features, softened by moonlight. Her eyes drifted down the line of his nose to his mouth, that same mouth that had covered her face with kisses earlier and whispered sweetly vulgar poetry in her ear. She found herself leaning closer to him until he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his side. “Beautiful,” Spike said quietly.

“It is,” Buffy agreed, finally glancing up overhead. It had been a long time since she’d felt so at peace with another person. Spike was slowly taking everything she’d thought she was certain of and turning it on its head. Her chest was starting to ache from all the feelings bubbling up inside her. “Spike…” She paused, uncertain.

“Dance?”

Buffy took a breath, jarred out of her melancholy for the moment. She found herself being turned in slow circles almost before she realized it was happening, one hand automatically coming up to grasp his strong shoulder. He held her like he had at the saloon, gently but surely, as though they were in a room full of people. Buffy let her eyes slide closed as Spike started to hum something under his breath. She smiled as she recognized the song Giles had been playing on his piano the first time they’d danced. She settled her head against his shoulder and he drew her closer as they swayed together under the moonlit skies.

Slowly, Spike brought them to a stop and just held her, his cheek resting against her hair. Buffy wished, even as time ticked on, that she could stop this moment and live there forever. “Spike,” she tried again. “I…can I ask you something?”

Spike sighed into her hair and his hands slid down to her hips. He pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed like he already knew what was coming. “Shoot, kitten.” 

“I just wondered, I mean, you’ve been in town a while now and…” she hesitated, her voice trailing off nervously as she watched him.

Spike had lowered his head so his eyes were shadowed by his hat. Buffy reached up and carefully pulled it off his head by the brim, holding it by her side and stepping back so she could see his face. She took a deep breath. “Do you have to…I mean. Are you still going after him?”

“He’s why I’m here, Buffy.” His expression softened as he reached out and took one of her hands in his, keeping her close. “For my little sister. For Drusilla, you understand?”

Buffy nodded slightly. “I know,” she whispered, unable to hold his gaze. She fiddled with his hat, absently stroking it with her thumb. “I just…I’d hate for something to happen.”

Spike’s fingers tightened around her hand before relaxing again. “Someone needs to stop him.”

Buffy stared at the seam on his shirt where his sleeve met the shoulder and tried to keep her voice steady. “Does it have to be you?”

Spike lifted his chin as she peeked up at him through her eyelashes. He seemed to be searching the night sky for answers. “Who else would?” he asked.

Buffy opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with an answer. “I wish…” she lifted his hat and offered it to him. “I don’t know.”

Spike plucked his hat out of her hand but didn’t put it back on. “Me too, kitten, me too,” he replied. She leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

***

She got back to the house as everything was winding down, feeling slightly guilty that she’d spent the entire party being the opposite of neighborly. Someone was still playing a guitar, but the song was long and meandering and she suspected they were mostly keeping occupied so they wouldn’t get pressed into helping clean up. Amy was overseeing the removal of what was left of the food on the outside tables, directing her boys with the air of a seasoned general.

Buffy paused just outside the pool of light in the yard and watched her little sister laugh with Tara as the two of them carried dishes into the house. She wasn’t sure what hurt more in that moment, the fact that if Spike succeeded in securing Dawn’s safety he’d be a wanted man and she’d never see him again, or that if the devil’s own luck stayed with Liam and something happened to Spike…her mind shied away from finishing the thought.

She spotted Riley sitting with Amy’s husband on the wide front porch, the two of them drinking coffee. Buffy watched the sheriff intently, narrowing her eyes as she contemplated his broad shoulders and large arms. In a previous life she was fairly certain she’d find him to be an attractive man, but now…well, her tastes apparently ran a little more roguish.

She smiled and stepped forward, the firelight gleaming off a piece of straw she’d missed, tangled in the fringe of her shawl. She absently picked it off and dropped it to the ground as she crossed the yard and reached out to take a dish from Amy.

“Oh, let my boys get it.” Amy shook her head. “You girls get on home.” She glanced at the front porch briefly before winking at Buffy. “I think your escort’s waiting.” 

Buffy felt the smile fade from her face as Dawn and Tara reappeared, still talking animatedly. “Buffy!” Dawn called, nearly skipping down the front steps. At least her sister was in a better mood than she had been earlier. Buffy lifted an eyebrow at Tara, who mouthed the word ‘dance’ behind Dawn’s back and smiled broadly. Buffy managed to turn the corners of her mouth up in response. “Where have you been?” Dawn demanded. “Did you see? You were right! He does dance!”

“Told you,” Buffy said fondly. She felt like maybe her own dance had been just as momentous. Although she wished hers hadn’t also felt quite so final. She struggled to keep her smile from disappearing again as Dawn rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Buffy looked around again. “Where’s Willow?”

Tara glanced at Dawn, who was saying her goodbyes to Amy while all four of Aaron’s brothers took turns harassing him behind their mother’s back. “Xander walked her home,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Good for her,” Buffy murmured, watching Aaron aim a kick at one of his little brothers the moment Dawn turned her back.

“Miss Buffy?” Riley had appeared at her side so suddenly it made Buffy jump a bit.

“Oh! Hello, Sheriff Finn.”

“Please, call me Riley,” he said, warmth coloring his tone. He offered her his arm, but Buffy pretended not to notice, turning instead towards where Dawn was lingering by the Madison’s eldest boy.

“Dawn!” Buffy called.

“I’m coming!” Dawn yelled. She meandered in Buffy’s direction and greeted Riley politely before shooting Buffy a dark look.

“Thank you for walking us home, Sheriff,” Tara said into the silence as they all started in the direction of the boarding house. Buffy tried to keep Dawn between her and Riley as they walked but Dawn, apparently, was in a snit again and soon stormed ahead. Tara sent Buffy an apologetic look before hurrying ahead to walk with the girl. 

The silence stretched out even longer.

Buffy pulled her wrap tightly around her shoulders but it was a poor substitute for the warmth of Spike’s arms. She sighed quietly.

“Nice party,” Riley finally said.

Buffy made a noise of agreement.

The sheriff lifted a hand and readjusted the hat on his head. “Didn’t see much of you, Miss Buffy. I heard Dawn was being a handful. Hope she didn’t give you too much trouble.”

Buffy frowned, finally turning her head to look at him. The moonlight washed out the color in his face and made him look sickly. “She was fine, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Riley let out a long sigh. “Miss Buffy, please, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…Gosh darn it. I was hoping to talk with you tonight, that’s all.   

Buffy bit her lip nervously. “Were you? I actually wanted to talk to you, too.”

“Yeah?” Riley’s hopeful voice made her wince.

“Yes,” Buffy said, steeling herself. “I think I might have given you the wrong impression.”

“What?” Riley sounded confused. “You mean working at the saloon? I know you’re not one of Anya’s girls, Buffy.”

Buffy pressed her lips together to keep from saying something she’d regret, trying to choose her words carefully. “No, not about that. I meant that I might have led you to believe that I’m…interested in a courtship, Sheriff, but I’m not.”

Riley stopped walking abruptly, turning to face her. In the distance, Buffy could see the roof of Tara’s house and wished she was already home. “I don’t understand,” Riley said. “Is there someone…it’s that cowboy, isn’t it?”

Buffy lifted her chin and started walking again, picking up her pace. “This has nothing to do with Spike.”

Riley snorted, his long legs helping him catch up to her without issue. “You’re suddenly not interested the minute this ‘Spike’ shows up in town and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I was never interested!” Buffy burst out. Riley jerked back like she’d struck him. They were nearly at the house now, but Buffy slowed to a stop. Things were already out in the open and there was no reason to drag them out longer than tonight. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

Riley had crossed his arms and was glaring off into the distance. “I can’t believe you’re throwing away everything we could have had for that lowlife cowhand. He’s not decent folk, Miss Buffy!”

“I’m not throwing anything away!” Buffy said in exasperation. “You and I didn’t have anything to throw in the first place!” 

“Mr. Angelus said…”

“Oh, Mr. Angelus,” Buffy cut in. “Of course, he must know everything because he’s rich. You know what a real scoundrel looks like, Riley? Take a good look at Mr. Angelus next time you see him.”

Riley was focused on something just over the top of her head, a deep frown on his face. “Xander said you all caught Dawn up in the hayloft with one of the Madison boys.”

Buffy was thrown by the abrupt change of subject. “She didn’t-”

Riley reached out and plucked a piece of straw out of her hair that she must have missed. Buffy forgot how to breathe. “He didn’t say you’d gone up there after her, though.” He frowned. “Mr. Angelus is right about her running wild under your charge. Not entirely the girl’s fault though, with you providing her example.”  

“I…”

“That cowboy was there, wasn’t he? Hiding like a coward in the barn? I knew I saw you go in there.” Riley was glaring at the prickly bit of straw in his hand like it was to blame. Buffy winced as he snapped the stalk in half and dropped it to the ground. “You’re right. I did have the wrong impression of you. Thanks for setting me straight.” Riley whirled around without another word and stomped off into the night, leaving Buffy staring after him.

A hand on her arm caused Buffy to let out a startled gasp. She turned to meet Tara’s sympathetic gaze.

“Maybe a cup of tea before bed?” Tara asked quietly. Buffy nodded and followed the other woman into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike's poetry: Walt Whitman


	11. Saddle Up

The next morning, when Buffy blinked her eyes open, the sun was already streaming in brightly through the windows.

Tea last night had turned into tea laced with whisky while Tara and Willow did their best to cheer her up. She could tell they were at a loss to understand why she’d discouraged the sheriff’s attentions when her only other prospect was a lawless cowboy, but she just couldn’t figure out how to put what she felt into words.

Tara seemed content to let her explain in her own time, but Willow was clearly struggling to keep from demanding an answer. Buffy forgave her friend, since she was sure Willow would get an earful from Xander about what had happened between her and Riley. Buffy had spent a long time staring blankly into her tea, wondering if anything her life was ever going to go smoothly. At least the whisky had put her straight to sleep when she finally gotten to bed.

Buffy dressed quickly, pulled her hair back into a hasty braid, and went downstairs to find an empty kitchen. There was nothing cooking on the stove and the oven was cold. She frowned and wandered through what was left of the garden and most of the downstairs rooms before finding Tara in the drawing room with a sheet of paper in her hand and a faraway look in her eye. Buffy entered cautiously. It was hardly ever used unless Tara was expecting guests, and only Dawn spent much time in it, since Tara let her use the piano to practice on. 

There was a small desk in the corner that would be easy to overlook amidst the other, grander furnishings, but Buffy knew that particular piece was a favorite of Tara’s. She’d told Buffy once that her mother had brought it all the way from Atlanta. That desk was where Tara was sitting now, seemingly staring at nothing. Buffy waited for a moment, hovering in the doorway, but Tara didn’t seem to notice her. She’d never seen her friend looking so distressed.

“Tara?”

“Buffy!” Tara looked over at her, startled. Her friend’s face was paler than the biscuit dough she was usually kneading this time of the morning. “Oh, Buffy.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“He…” Tara’s gaze fell to the paper in her hand. “He’s going to take my house.”

“What?” Buffy exclaimed, shocked. She snatched the paper out of Tara’s hands and read it through four times before she thought she understood. “He can’t do this.” Her hand trembled as she remembered all the times Liam had done exactly this.

“He can,” Tara said faintly. “I already went to the land office. They can’t find my deed. They said there’s no record of my father ever claiming this property. Oh, Buffy, what am I going to do? This place is all I have!”

“He can’t take it,” Buffy said firmly. “We won’t let him.”

Tara burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know how we’ll stop him.”

Buffy opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door. She whirled around and headed for the front of the house, hoping it was one of Liam’s lawyers so she could give him a piece of her mind. She yanked the door open and snapped her mouth shut as her anger changed to wonder. “Spike?” She was almost overcome with relief. Maybe he’d know how to fix this mess she’d somehow gotten her friends tangled up in. 

“Hello, kitten, just came for my-” He frowned, peering at her worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

Buffy grabbed his shirtsleeve and dragged him into the house. “It’s dreadful!” She closed the door and lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing toward the drawing room as Spike hastily plucked his hat off his head and hung it up next to his mended coat. “It’s Liam, he’s trying to take Tara’s house from her. His lawyers are saying it’s within the boundaries of the old Chase ranch!”

Spike growled low in his throat and reached out, pulling her close. She tucked her head under his chin and clutched the front of his shirt. “He can’t. I won’t let him turn you out like that.”

“What could we possibly do?” Buffy whispered against his chest.

Spike’s fingers trailed down her cheek and tipped her face up so she could see him gazing down at her with that light in his eyes that made her feel like she was someone extraordinary. He bent down, kissing her softly. Buffy slipped her hand to the back of his neck and played with the soft curls she found there. A tiny noise interrupted them and Buffy pulled back, untangling herself from Spike’s arms with some reluctance.

Buffy turned to see Tara standing in the foyer, clasping her hands together so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Tara said softly.

“Oh, um, Tara, this is Spike, Spike, Tara.” Buffy made the introductions nervously. Even after the tea and whisky last night she wasn’t sure that her friends really understood how important Spike had become to her in such a short time. It felt like she’d known he was heading her way all along, and she’d just been waiting for him to arrive.

“Miss Tara,” Spike said politely, inclining his head. One of his hands was still resting on Buffy’s back and she leaned into it, grateful for the support.

Tara glanced at Buffy. “Mister, um, Spike,” Tara returned. She seemed composed now, her red-rimmed eyes the only evidence of her earlier breakdown.

“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles with Angelus,” Spike said. “I was just telling Buffy I’ll help any way I can.”

“Is that what that was?” Tara’s smile was a ghost of its usual self but Buffy was just glad to see it make an appearance at all. “Thank you, Mr. Spike.”

Spike grinned crookedly at her. “Just Spike’s fine.”

Tara nodded. “Are you hungry?”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Do you have any of those sweet rolls?”

This time Tara’s smile looked genuine. “Of course.” She led the way into the kitchen and Buffy followed, feeling Spike’s hand gently press against her lower back as she preceded him into the room like he might sweep her up into a dance at any moment. She went to follow Tara, thinking she might set out dishes and silverware, but her friend shooed her away and nodded at the kitchen table.

“I can…” Buffy started.

“You can entertain our company,” Tara said, sounding more like herself.

Tara busied herself preparing tea and heating up some sweet rolls as Spike pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, helping Buffy into it before sprawling into the one next to her. It amused Buffy no end to see what a mass of contradictions Spike seemed to be. He pulled out chairs like a proper gentleman but couldn’t be bothered to sit up straight at the table. Buffy eyed him affectionately and he clasped her hand with his under the table, linking their fingers together.

Tara poured their drinks and set a plate brimming with rolls on the table as she joined them, eyes downcast. Buffy looked at her worriedly. “Tara, we’ll figure something out, I promise.” She patted her friend’s arm. “There must be something we can do. Maybe we can go to the city and find a lawyer of our own?”

“And tell him that some rich man is taking the house I have no proof of owning?” Tara shook her head. “I don’t think a lawyer would take my case.” 

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Well, maybe there’s a copy of your deed somewhere else. Would Willow know where to look? Paperwork seems like a Willow sort of thing.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand affectionately. “Could just kill the blighter.” He shrugged. Tara laughed like she thought that was a good joke as Buffy glared at him. He gave her an impish half-smile and Buffy rolled her eyes. “Why’s Angelus after your place, do you think?” he continued.

Tara glanced at Buffy nervously but Buffy just shook her head. “No, it’s all right. He knows about me and Liam.”

Tara’s mouth fell open in shock. Spike merely sipped his tea. “Hits the spot this does, reminds me of my mum’s.”

“Well,” Tara said, recovering herself. “I can see why Buffy adores you so.”

“Adores, does she?” Spike grinned as Buffy blushed and squirmed in her chair.

“I never said that!” Buffy protested.

Tara smiled at them both warmly. “No, of course not. It’s just written plain as day on both your faces.”

Spike’s fingers caressed Buffy’s under the table as he picked up another sweet roll. “So, kitten, what’s Angelus’ angle then?”

Buffy sighed. “Dawn.”

Spike frowned. “Your little sis?” Buffy nodded and Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Angelus is a dead man.”

“Spike,” Buffy reached out, resting a hand on his cheek and gazing steadily into his eyes. Those eyes she couldn’t bear to see the life drain out of if the worst should happen. “Please, I can’t…if something were to happen to you I couldn’t…” She was having trouble catching her breath, thinking of a world without him in it.  

Spike’s expression softened. “It’s all right now, kitten. I know.” He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across her cheek. Tara politely averted her eyes, her cheeks flushing faintly pink. “You think he’d leave Miss Tara here alone if you and your sis were gone?”

Buffy blinked at him, confused. “I don’t understand. You mean if we left? I suppose that’s what he wants, so he might leave Tara alone afterwards. But where would we go?”

“Anywhere you wanted.”

Buffy set her tea down in dismay. “But…my job and Dawn’s schooling and…” she trailed off, sighing. “I just thought, before he turned up, that we were finally done running.”

Spike’s hand slipped through her hair. She could feel her braid unraveling but his soothing touch was far more important than her appearance. “We’re not running, kitten, just starting over. We can go to California maybe, see the great Pacific.”

Buffy smiled at him a little, her heart lifting with almost unimagined hope. “We, huh?”

Spike smiled back. “Don’t think you can get rid of me now, love. I’m done for.”

Buffy ducked her chin and glanced at him from under her lashes. She was completely tongue-tied. Just last night he’d seemed so sure that he had to finish what he’d started but now… It sounded so romantic, running away together to save her sister, and yet she’d done that once before and look how that had turned out. Liam’s presence still loomed large, hurting all the people she cared about. She couldn’t risk adding to their troubles by relying on anyone else. Spike had no obligations to her or to Dawn, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t just up and move on again, leaving them behind. She couldn’t bear another broken heart, not when this one was already bound to be ten times more painful than the last.

“Spike…” Buffy said slowly, trying to get all the hopes and fears swirling through her mind in order. “I thought you wanted to-” she darted a glance at Tara, “finish your business here.”

Spike’s hand slowly slid down to rest in the crook of her elbow as he gazed earnestly at her face. “I think I have,” he said softly.

Buffy blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “I thought I was meant to chase him down for what he’d done to Dru, but maybe this was just her way of helping me find you.” His smile was broad and unguarded. “Wouldn’t be the first time she set me straight.”

Tara was studiously fixing herself a second cup of tea and trying very hard to blend in with the furniture. 

“I don’t…” The room felt simultaneously too big and too small just then. Buffy’s hand, still caught in Spike’s larger one, start to tremble. “But what about Liam?”

A crease appeared between Spike’s eyes. “Do you want me to-”

“No!” Buffy interrupted, her entire being filling with relief. “No, please, he’s not worth it.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “He’s not worth any part of you.”

Spike’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Well, glad to hear that, kitten. So you’ll come?”

“I-” Buffy paused. She wanted so badly to say yes, but a piece of her was unable to allow it. She’d sacrificed so much to keep Liam before she’d really understood the consequences. Was this just as foolish? She couldn’t afford to be impulsive, not when she had Dawn to look after. Buffy glanced nervously at Spike, taking in his hopeful expression. She didn’t know how to explain her hesitance without bringing up Liam, even if Spike was as far from Liam as he could get. “I’m not sure I should,” she whispered, her heart already crumbling to dust as she prepared for his anger.

Spike’s brow furrowed at her hesitation. “I thought you…” His eyes cleared. “Ah, love, we can go down to the church first, if you prefer. Make it all nice and proper.” He reached up and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

Tara made a stifled, squeaking noise into her tea.

Buffy’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. It seemed Spike had no end of surprises today. “What?”

Spike leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mouth, right there in the kitchen in front of Tara. “What do you say, kitten? Want to get ourselves hitched and have a grand adventure?”

Tara was unable to bear it any longer, making a happy, squealing noise and rising from the table. “Oh my gosh! I have to make a cake! Or a pie! Or…oh my gosh, Buffy!” She fluttered back toward the stove and started pulling things out of the cupboards.

Buffy stared at Spike dazedly, her mind awhirl. “Are you...?” She pinched her own arm. No, it didn’t seem to be a dream, even though she was certain this was exactly what she’d been thinking of when she’d gone to sleep last night. “This is crazy.”

Spike pulled her close again, kissing her deeply, his free hand curling into her hair. He broke away just long enough to remind her she hadn’t actually answered him. “Is that a yes?”

Tara’s clattering reminded Buffy of where they were and she pulled back, her breathing fast and shallow. “This is crazy,” she repeated helplessly, knowing her hair was a mess. She tried to pat it back into place with a shaking hand. “Yes,” she breathed.

Spike dragged her up out of her chair with a whooping laugh and picked her up, spinning her once before setting her down on unsteady legs. He kissed her again, loud and smacking, right on the mouth. “My lovely Buffy.” He grinned at her, his arms tight around her waist. She felt a little dizzy and wondered if it was possibly to be too happy.

Tara was watching them from the stove, a bowl of something in her arms and her eyes bright with tears. “Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!”

“What’s exciting?” Dawn appeared in the doorway from the garden, looking bewildered. Willow was just behind her.

“You’re home early!” Buffy pushed herself away from Spike with an effort, though she couldn’t seem to bring herself to stop hanging onto one of his hands. Dawn was frowning at him suspiciously. Buffy had forgotten that her little sister still hadn’t met him.

“Um, Tara sent a message to the school asking me to come home. She said it was urgent.” Willow said cautiously. “You must be Spike.” She stepped forward, holding out her hand while shooting Buffy a curious look. Spike accepted her handshake gravely, making Willow’s expression soften slightly.

“Spike?” Dawn wrinkled her nose. “That’s a name?”

“Dawn!” Buffy said in exasperation. She cleared her throat as Tara watched with wide eyes, biting her lip like she was bursting to tell them the news. “Um, Spike, this is my sister, Dawn. And this is Willow, she’s Dawn’s schoolteacher. She also lives here with us.”

Spike gestured grandly with one arm, practically bowing to Dawn, which seemed to startle her out of her snit. Dawn flushed and giggled nervously. “Miss Dawn. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Miss Willow.” Spike inclined his head at her too.

Dawn glanced at Buffy uncertainly while Willow eyed Spike with appreciation. Buffy saw her waggling her eyebrows at Tara when she thought the others weren’t looking. “So,” Dawn crossed her arms, regaining her haughty air. “What’s exciting?”

“Well, Dawn.” Buffy glanced at Spike nervously. “Spike asked me, um…” she trailed off. It was still so new and she’d barely had time to process it herself. She worried suddenly what Dawn was going to think. The last time she’d gotten tangled up with a man had been such a disaster for them both, but this was Spike, and it was so different, except Dawn didn’t know that.

Spike squeezed her hand. “Your beautiful sis just agreed to marry me, little one.”

Dawn’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she screeched, her eyes wide. “And I am fourteen, I’m not _little_.” She tossed her head and tried to look down her nose at Spike, though the effect was somewhat marred by Willow’s excited squeal.

“Oh my goodness,” Willow said breathlessly. She exchanged happy smiles with Tara, who was yanking something down from a high shelf.

Spike grinned. “My apologies, Miss Dawn. Just looking forward to having a little sis to brass off again.”

Buffy covered her mouth with one hand to hide her grin. Dawn sputtered for a moment before settling back on a glare. Buffy tilted her head, watching her sister. Dawn was the whole reason she and Buffy had struck out west in the first place, the last thing she wanted was for her sister to be unhappy or upset. “Dawn?” Buffy asked softly. “What do you think?”

Dawn hesitated, glancing over at Willow and Tara before returning her gaze to Spike. “Are you serious?” Dawn turned to Buffy, her expression nervous and worried. “Buffy…”

Buffy reached out to grasp Dawn’s hand. “He knows everything, Dawnie. We’re going to be fine, you’ll see.” Dawn’s mouth fell open.

Spike pulled Buffy close again, dragging Dawn along for the ride. “So, kitten, off to the church then?” He sent Dawn another grin, including her in the question.

Buffy looked up at him nervously. “Are you sure?” Dawn gently squeezed her hand.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” Spike declared, right there in front of everyone. “Think I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

Willow ran to hug Tara, who was crying again, but smiling through her tears.

Dawn was staring at Spike, openmouthed. Her expression had changed to one of awe. “Oh.” She stared at Buffy and then Spike again. “Um, congratulations?”

Willow was crying now too, her head on Tara’s shoulder. Tara had one arm wrapped around Willow’s waist while she stirred with the other.

Buffy was still reeling. He loved her? Could it happen so quickly? She thought those stolen moments with him over the last few days and realized that whatever it was, it was leaps and bounds ahead of anything she’d ever felt for Liam. “Thanks, Dawn,” Buffy smiled at her sister. “I’m glad you approve.”

Dawn lifted her eyebrows at Spike. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” She took a step back, dropping Buffy’s hand.

“Duly noted, Miss Dawn. I’ll hold you to it.”

Dawn grinned at him before turning to Buffy. “Yeah, okay, I like him.”

Buffy laughed, all of her trepidation turning into joy. “Good, because I think we’re stuck with him.”

Dawn went to join the squealing girls by the counter, wrapping her arms around Tara’s middle and making it even more difficult for Tara to make her cake, or pie, or whatever she had in mind. Buffy beamed up at Spike, feeling like she must be glowing with happiness just then. Spike tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “So, love, plan sound good to you?”

Buffy hummed in agreement, still unable to believe this was happening. And to her! She’d only just reconciled herself to a lifetime of drudgery and loneliness before he caught her up in this whirlwind of…of, well, she had no idea, but it was bound to be exciting. She was just thrilled to be sharing it with him, her own William. “If you’re in it, the plan is good,” Buffy declared.

Spike laughed and kissed her again, on the temple this time. Dawn giggled and Buffy blushed, wondering if she would ever be happier than in this moment.

***

_Present Day_

“What if we poured water on them?” Dawn dug her spoon into the ice cream. She couldn’t believe Mom was letting her stay up this late, although maybe her mom just didn’t know Willow hadn’t sent her to bed yet. Buffy and Spike hadn’t moved an inch. They were practically nose to nose, their faces relaxed in sleep, and Dawn was going to have to hide those pictures she’d taken because Buffy would so kill her.

Willow frowned. “I don’t think that will work, either. I didn’t think it would last this long, but as soon as the…dream or whatever is over they should wake right up.”

“So: No tickling, no electrocuting, no poking with sticks, and no water pouring.” Dawn ticked off the list on her fingers one by one. She gasped suddenly, sitting straight up. “What if it’s like Snow White?”

Willow had started to yawn widely, but appeared to be startled out of it halfway through and blinked rapidly to recover herself before speaking. “What?”

“You know!” Dawn bounced in her seat enthusiastically. “What if they need to be woken up with a kiss or something?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “That’s not a real spell, Dawn. Besides, who would want to kiss Spike?” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry, as soon as the spell reaches its natural conclusion, they’ll wake up.”


	12. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

“Dawn?” Buffy called from upstairs. She turned around, inspecting the back of her dress. Anya had insisted Buffy couldn’t be married in just anything, but Buffy was worried this might be a little too extravagant. Maybe Dawn could help her make up her mind. Her sister didn’t answer even though Buffy was certain she’d just heard someone come in downstairs and it was long past the time school usually let out.

Buffy frowned in the mirror one last time at the dress Anya had lent her before hiking up the heavy, intricately embroidered skirts and heading for the stairs. The dark green fabric brushed the rails of the staircase as she descended, making a soothing, rustling noise that reminded her of her friend and made her feel like she was almost as elegant.

“Buffy!” Tara’s voice from the kitchen was panicked, making Buffy’s pulse skitter nervously. Oh god, had something happened? Spike had promised he wouldn’t go after Liam, not now, not just before they planned to leave that horrible man behind them forever.

“Tara?” Buffy hurried towards the kitchen. She could hear someone else now too, another familiar voice that wasn’t her little sister’s. She wondered where Dawn had hared off to. “Willow?” As she entered the room, Buffy felt her heart drop straight into her shoes. Willow’s face was stricken and pale as she met Buffy’s gaze.

Buffy felt her entire world falling out from beneath her as she stood rooted to the floor. A thousand images of an injured Spike all flew through her mind, each more horrible than the last. “Oh god, what’s happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Willow choked out. A tear leaked down her cheek. “I told her to run but they hit me with something and I didn’t…Buffy, I think they took her.”

Buffy blinked, the kitchen coming back into focus. Tara was wetting a rag at the sink and hurrying over to Willow, wiping the other woman’s face. “Hush now, it’s all right, there’s nothing you could have done,” Tara comforted.

Buffy noticed a red mark on Willow’s forehead, up near her friend’s temple. “They hurt you,” she whispered shakily. Her mind was spinning in a million directions. Liam was getting bolder, but if he thought his violence would frighten her, he was sadly mistaken. “How long has she been gone?” Buffy’s voice was surer now. She straightened her spine.

“I don’t know, um, maybe an hour?” Willow winced as Tara tended to the bump on her head. “I’d just released the students for the day. You know Dawn always waits for me so we can walk home together.”

Buffy felt her entire being narrow down to one, focused thought: Get Dawn back. She ran for the front door.

***

“Riley!” Buffy burst into the sheriff’s office, startling Riley out of what appeared to be a one-man game of checkers. She could feel her hair falling down out of the hasty topknot she’d tied it in so she could see the back of what had been her wedding dress, but untidy hair was the least of her worries at the moment.

“Miss Buffy!” Riley hastily swung his feet off his desk and stood up. “What’s wrong? What happened? And what are you doing running around in that getup?”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. Really? He was criticizing her choice of clothing when Dawn had been kidnapped by some fiendish man? “He’s taken her. He took my sister!”

“Who?” Riley looked confused.

“Liam!” Buffy nearly shouted. “Liam Angelus!”

Riley suddenly looked a lot less interested. “Oh, Miss Buffy, this is just a misunderstanding. He told me about your plans to send Dawn off to boarding school, remember? You really can’t keep accusing him of unfounded crimes when he’s just helping your family out of the goodness of his heart. Someone might think you were holding a grudge for some reason.” He shot her a shrewd glance.

Buffy flushed a deep red. “Pardon me?”

Riley sighed and propped his feet back up on his desk. “I’ve learned a few things recently, Buffy. Things you conveniently never mentioned when you first moved here. Mr. Angelus was kind enough to explain to me exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“And just what kind of woman am I?” Buffy asked through gritted teeth.

Riley’s face was stony. “The kind that makes up stories to get a man who refused her into trouble. The kind that leads on decent, hardworking men before turning them down because she knows she wouldn’t be able to fool them for long. Tell me, Buffy, were you ever going to tell me you were a fallen woman?”

Buffy gasped, outraged. “Liam said that I…? How dare you!”

“I heard you were able to convince some other poor soul to take you on despite your…well, I’m a gentleman, so I’ll just say I’m glad Mr. Angelus opened my eyes to what you truly are.”

Buffy’s hands curled into fists, her entire body trembling. “You won’t help Dawn then.”

Riley moved one of the red pieces on the board. “You should be thanking Mr. Angelus for even bothering with her at all, considering her family.”

Buffy felt angry tears stinging her eyes. “You are the _worst_ sort of man, Mr. Finn,” she spat. Riley didn’t look up again as she spun and rushed back out the front door.

Buffy stood in front of the Sheriff’s Office for what felt like an excruciating amount of time as she decided what to do. She fleetingly thought of trying to find Spike, but he was drifting around the edges of town avoiding Riley and searching for him would take up valuable time she wasn’t sure she had. The thought of Dawn in Liam’s clutches for one second more than was necessary made her sick to her stomach. Buffy made up her mind, hiked up her voluminous skirts, and set off for the blacksmith’s at a dead run.

Buffy almost ran right into Xander, who was coming out the front gate. “Mr. Harris!” Buffy gasped, trying to catch her breath.

Xander looked at her worriedly. “Is Willow all right?”

 “Fine! Well, she had a scare but…I don’t have time, I’m sorry. I need to borrow a horse.”

Xander stared at her, perplexed. “Uh, Miss Buffy, not that you don’t look lovely, but is that the best getup for riding? I’m not sure…”

“Please!” Buffy grasped his shirtsleeve when it looked like he might turn to leave. “Please! He’s taken Dawn!”

“What?” Xander looked astonished. “Who’s taken her?”

“Liam Angelus,” Buffy said desperately, willing him to believe her. “Please, I have to get her back.”

“Miss Buffy…” Xander hesitated.

“Just lend me a horse, I’m begging you.”

Xander sighed. “All right. But you should really talk to Sheriff Fi-“

“I did.” Buffy interrupted, her tone bitter. “He thinks I should be thrilled that the high and mighty Mr. Angelus deigned to notice her.”

Xander blinked. “Uh, well…huh. I’ll, um, get you that horse.”

Buffy hovered behind him, wishing he’d hurry as he saddled a horse. It was her usual gentle companion. She hoped the horse was ready for a more rousing adventure than their previous jaunts. “Willow was hit over the head when they took Dawn,” she told him as he worked. “She was all right when I left Tara’s, but I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

That seemed to speed Xander’s hands. Finally, he was helping her up into the saddle and she was awkwardly arranging her skirts so she could stay in it. She was never going to wear a dress this extravagant ever again. The fabric around the bottom edge was already looking a bit worse for wear. She winced and hoped Anya would forgive her.

“Miss Buffy, maybe you should find someone to go with you to help clear this up.”

“I don’t know where Spike is,” Buffy said softly, looking out at the road. Dawn was in the hands of a scoundrel and she didn’t have any more time to waste. “I have to go, Mr. Harris. Thank you.” Buffy urged the horse out of the barn and headed toward Liam’s new ranch at a steady clip. Behind her, Xander had taken off running for Tara’s house.

***

The nearer she got to the old Chase ranch the more her temper flared. How dare Liam take Dawn like she was just a prize? And after her own experiences and what Spike had told her about Drusilla…well, obviously, the man had no heart to speak of at all. Buffy’s conscience twinged at the thought of Spike, knowing he would be hurt and angry that she hadn’t asked him for help. If she’d just had more time! But Dawn had been gone for almost two hours now and her sister didn’t deserve to be in the hands of that monster masquerading at a man any longer than necessary.

Buffy had never been so deep into the old Chase ranchlands. Tara was right, she thought idly as she passed the fields surrounding it, it really was a lovely place. The land was green and smelled of ripe earth, with trees lining the road and following the banks of a meandering stream in the distance. Too bad it belonged to such a cad. Land like this deserved to have someone who loved it, cherished it. Buffy’s heart clenched. It was the sort of place she used to dream of having after Joyce passed.

Focus, you silly girl, Buffy scolded herself. Already the horse was setting a pace much slower than she liked, but she couldn’t risk pushing her mount and losing her already unstable seat. If only she could have ridden astride! Fancy dresses were really just more trouble than they were worth, she decided.

Her eyes narrowed as a farmhouse appeared in the distance. It was set back in a copse of trees and grander than she expected. It rose up two stories and was wide and long, with a deep front porch and a soaring roofline. All it wanted was a lick of paint to make it presentable again. Liam always did have an eye for beautiful things, she thought regretfully.

Two cowboys were lounging on the porch steps, laughing raucously as Buffy reined in her horse to a staid walk. It wouldn’t do to make Liam think she’d rushed out here. The more someone wanted something, the harder Liam worked to keep it from them. They quieted as she approached, watching through twin plumes of smoke as she closed the distance. She took several deep breaths and straightened her shoulders, trying to ignore their leers as she got closer.

“Hello gentlemen,” she said cordially. “I’ve come to speak to Liam.”

One of the men snorted. “Afraid you’re too late, miss, though you do make a lovely picture. Luckily I’m still available.” His grin was lecherous and Buffy resisted nudging her horse closer so she could kick him in his hideously crooked teeth. Instead, she concentrated on carefully situating her skirts so she could slide off the horse with a minimum of fuss.

When she finally made it to the ground, Buffy smiled as calmly as she could. “Please tell him I’ve come for my sister.”

Both men’s eyebrows rose and one turned to the other, who shrugged before heading into the house. Buffy draped her horse’s reins across the hitching post near the porch steps and stood with her hands clasped in front of her to hide her nervous shaking. The cowboy left on the porch eyed her appreciatively and Buffy fought the urge to yank her neckline a little higher. The dark green brocade that had seemed so lovely in her room now felt much too revealing. She wondered if Spike would have liked it. She wondered if he would ever forgive her for coming here alone.

After what felt like an eternity, the man who had disappeared into the house came back out again. “He’ll see you.”

Buffy held her head high as she mounted the porch steps and entered Liam’s house.

“Ah, lassie, you’ve gotten dressed up for me.” Liam’s voice was a deep rumble in the dim foyer. He was lounging against the banister of a lovely curved staircase leading to the second floor. “Reminds me of old times.”

“It’s not for you, Liam.”

He prowled closer, his smile twisting into a smirk. “Finally found your place in the world then? Going to dance for money in that poor excuse for a tavern? You’ll find no shortage of companions willing to pay for more than that, pretty thing like you. Of course, I’ve always been more…discerning.”

“I remember,” Buffy said softly. She refused to drop her gaze like he used to demand of her. She wasn’t his puppet to command any longer. She saw the shadow of a frown cross his face and felt a moment of triumph. She had unsettled him. For now that was enough. “Where is Dawn?”

“Ah, the lovely Dawn. She’s upstairs getting ready. We’ve a big night planned, full of…firsts.” Liam smirked at her. “Of course, I don’t have to pay for the pleasure of her company.”

Buffy refused to flinch. “No, you just stole it.”

Liam frowned at her. “Watch your tongue, lass.”

“I want to speak to Dawn.” Buffy set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. She was floundering, but Liam didn’t have to know that. Perhaps she should have thought this plan through a bit more thoroughly.

“Buffy?” Dawn appeared at the top of the stairs. “Buffy!” Dawn launched herself down the stairs, only to be stopped short by Liam’s hand grasping her arm. He jerked her away from Buffy.

“You should be dressed.” He glared at her. “I told you to put on what was out on the bed.”

Dawn glared right back. “I _hate_ you!”

Liam casually lifted one large hand and backhanded Dawn across the face, making her shriek in surprise, outrage and pain. She held her reddened cheek, stunned. A long, shallow scratch showed where one of his rings had made contact with her skin.

Buffy flinched and tried not to cry out with her sister. “Please,” Buffy asked, her voice low and pleading. “Don’t, Liam.” 

Liam raised his hand again and Dawn winced away from him, tears spilling out of her eyes.

“Please.” Buffy tried to keep her voice steady as she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I’ll do anything, Liam. Just let her go.”

Liam had opened his mouth, an arrogant smile playing on his lips, when a shot suddenly rang out. Dawn shrieked as Liam shoved her away and pulled a small pistol out of his suit vest. Buffy whirled around and tried to see what was happening out front as she stumbled back toward her sister and crouched over Dawn protectively. Liam started barking orders at his men on the porch and peering out of the window next to the front door. Buffy’s heart was in her throat.

“What’s happening? Who’s shooting?” Dawn asked, her head curled into her sister’s shoulder.

“I don’t-“ Buffy began.

“Angelus!” a familiar voice hollered from outside. “Come out, you bloody coward!”

“Oh no,” Buffy gasped. “Spike!”

“Spike?” Dawn started to scramble to her feet, dragging Buffy with her. Buffy’s gut was churning with fear and worry as she struggled to control her emotions in front of her sister.

More shots rang out as Buffy lurched toward the nearest window. Dawn was peeking worriedly in the direction of the front yard. Liam and his men were shooting toward the woods in the opposite direction of the road Buffy had come in on, using the porch posts as cover. Her poor horse was nowhere to be seen. Buffy managed to gather herself enough to shove Dawn down a hallway, hoping there was a back door. “Go, Dawn!”

Dawn went, hiking up her skirt and flying down the hall with Buffy following as best she could, her heart growing heavier with each step that took her further from Spike. “Buffy.” Dawn looked close to tears. “They’re shooting at him!”

Buffy pressed her lips into a thin line. “I know. He’s doing it for us, Dawnie, so we can get out.” She wanted to cry right along with her sister as more gunshots echoed through the house. How Spike had known she was here was a mystery, but the one thing she was sure of was that he was protecting her and Dawn the best way he knew how. Behind them, she could hear Liam screaming insults at his men and someone moaning in pain.

A door suddenly loomed in front of them, sunlight streaming through the glass insert. Buffy yanked it open and shoved Dawn through it. “Go, go!”

Dawn stumbled and almost lost her footing on the back steps before catching herself. Buffy was right behind her. They hurried along the rear of the house and Buffy nearly cried in relief when she saw her horse come trotting around the corner, trying to escape the mayhem. She grabbed the reins and practically lifted Dawn into the saddle. “Buffy?” Dawn asked uncertainly, perched there on the sweet horse that Buffy knew she could rely on.

Buffy choked down her tears. “Go get help!” She smacked the horse’s flank and he took off. Dawn twisted in the saddle, her eyes wide and fearful as she disappeared into the trees, heading for town. Buffy turned back to the house. More shots were being fired. She snuck around the side and took a peek at the front porch, seeing two men down and another firing into the woods where she’d last heard Spike voice. Liam was still screaming and waving his little pistol around, his face plum-colored.

Buffy turned and darted into the house through the back entrance, trying not to make too much noise. Liam was close to the front door. If she could just…

“Who’s the real coward here?” Liam yelled. “Seems to me like you’re not fighting fair!”

Buffy stumbled and almost fell as she neared the front of the house. _No_ , she thought frantically, _no, Spike don’t_ …She reached the front doorway just as he stepped out of the shelter of the trees. She froze in her tracks, taking in his lifted chin and proud posture. He was a hundred times the man Liam ever was, and he was going to die for her and her sister. She couldn’t bear to let that happen. 

She heard the grin in Liam’s voice as he moved down the porch steps, taking a gun from one of his fallen men and waving away the cowboy still standing. “That’s more like it, boy.”

Spike’s face was grim. “You let them go.”

Liam’s laugh was loud and arrogant, sending shivers of revulsion down Buffy’s spine. “Well, well. Looks like little Buffy’s found another sucker. She’s a sweet lass, to be sure. I’ve never been one for another man’s castoffs, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

Spike glared at him. “You shut your mouth, Angelus.”

“I was sad to hear about Dru, you know. We had a gay old time together. ‘Twas a crying shame to lose a pretty thing like that.”

Buffy felt her breath coming short and fast as she watched Spike’s face shutter and close down. “She was more than a thing,” he growled.

Buffy almost missed the movement; she was so focused on Spike’s face. She wanted to engrave the curve of his cheek into her memory, the stubborn way he set his jaw. Liam didn’t miss the twitch of Spike’s hand though, and his gun was up at almost the same instant.

“No!” Buffy shrieked just as Liam took aim. She thought she saw the barrel of his pistol waver for a split second as the shots rang out. Buffy found herself propelled out the door, her ears ringing and her mouth opened in a scream. Liam’s one remaining man shoved past her into the house at a run.

Liam was standing at the bottom of the porch steps as a red flower bloomed on the front of his silk shirt. He started to crumple as Buffy flew down the risers, her feet barely touching the wood. She thought she was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. She couldn’t hear anything at all. The entire world was eerily silent. Spike was on his knees in the meadow grass at the edge of the treeline, his expression dazed.

She loved him, Buffy realized with sudden clarity. She loved him like she’d never loved anyone in her entire life. The hurt she thought she’d felt when Liam cast her away was nothing compared to the pain lodged in her heart just then, when she thought these might be her last moments with her beloved.

“Please,” she sobbed as her ears stopped ringing, “Oh god, please, no!” She dropped to her knees beside Spike, grasping his shoulders and easing him to the ground. “Spike,” she pleaded. Tears were dripping off her chin.

He focused on her face and she thought for a moment she was going to faint like some silly woman. All the air left her lungs. He was _looking_ at her. “You’re all right,” he said with obvious relief.

Her laugh sounded more like a whimper as she pulled his head into her lap and ran her hands over his torso. His shirt was slowly turning red. “Where, my love? Where are you hurt?”

Spike frowned up at her. “Hurt?”

Buffy undid the buttons of his shirt with a trembling hand, tearing it in her haste to find his wounds. “Where, Spike? Oh god.”

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, kitten, you could have just asked,” he murmured, his eyes half-mast and faraway.

“Don’t you dare.” Buffy yanked his shirt open, finally finding a bloody hole in his shoulder. She pressed her hand over the wound, making him gasp. “Don’t you dare die, you complete _idiot_.”

“My beautiful Buffy.” Spike was staring at her, a small smile on his face.

“I love you, William,” she whispered, pulling him closer and cradling his head against her bosom. “Do you hear me?  Don’t you even think about leaving me.”

“ _To me there needs no stone to tell, tis nothing that I loved so well_ …”

This time Buffy did laugh, gathering her skirts and pressing its fraying fabric against his seeping wound. “If you leave me,” she murmured, kissing his forehead, “I will drag you back from heaven just to kill you myself.”

Spike stared up at her, his eyes as blue as a winter sky. “Love the dress, kitten.”

“Be quiet,” Buffy whispered fondly, bending to kiss his soft lips as he curled a hand into her hair. She managed to forget everything for a moment, until Spike’s hand went limp and slipped to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike's poetry: Lord Byron


	13. Storm's a Comin'

“You have everything?” Tara was trying to fit another packet of pasties into the already bulging basket of food she was packing.

“I have everything I could possibly need and then some.” Buffy assured her. “We’ll be fine.”

Tara gave her a small smile as she wedged the pasties in behind a paper-wrapped lump that Buffy hoped was a pile of sweet rolls. “I remember how well you cook.”

“I can…” Buffy started to protest before sighing in defeat. “Thank you for taking care of us.”

Tara’s smile grew. “Of course.” She reached out to lay a hand on Buffy’s arm, her expression turning serious. “I owe you both so much. I’m so sorry about-”

Dawn came bounding into the kitchen. “They’re here!”

Buffy wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Promise me you’ll be good.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’m not a _baby_.”

“Just promise you won’t drive Tara and Willow too crazy.”

“You’ve been gone before.” Dawn pointed out.

“Not overnight.” Buffy narrowed her eyes. “And you manage to get into plenty of trouble even when I’m around.”

“The last time wasn’t my fault!”

Xander came wandering into the kitchen, an easy smile on his face. “Here are my three favorite ladies! Boy, something sure smells delicious in here. Ready to go, Miss Buffy?”

Tara shook a large mixing spoon at him before she resumed dropping dollops of something into a heavy pan on the stovetop. “Don’t let Willow hear you say that, you big flirt.”

Xander clutched his chest and gasped in mock outrage. “And here I thought we were meant to be, Miss Tara. I’m deeply wounded.”

Buffy picked up the basket Tara had packed before Xander could get too interested in it. “Willow’s out in the garden.”

“Yeah?” Xander’s expression melted into something soft and fond. It made Buffy’s heart glad to see it. Xander had proven himself a loyal friend to all of them when he’d rushed to Willow’s side after hearing of her injury, and then, on finding Spike had arrived to see his fiancée, had unhesitatingly pointed the cowboy in Buffy’s direction. Willow was a lucky woman. Buffy smiled to herself. And so was she.

Xander headed out the kitchen door and Buffy turned back to her sister. “Be…”

“Good,” Dawn finished with a snort. “I heard you the first time, Buffy.”

“Okay.” Buffy took a deep breath and nervously smoothed down the front of her best dress with her free hand. “How do I look?”

“I seriously don’t think he cares,” Dawn informed her. “It’s kind of sickening.”

“Dawn!” Tara chastised from her spot by the stove where her latest creations were merrily sizzling away. “Come help me with these.”

“Fine,” Dawn sighed and Buffy watched, contented, as her sister moved to help. It was over. They would never have to leave this town if they didn’t want to; they’d never have to run again. Liam was dead, god rest him (her mother had taught her to always at least _pretend_ to be remorseful) and they were safe. Dawn was safe. Buffy didn’t think she could ask for more than that. She really didn’t want to spoil her lucky streak.

“What’s the holdup?” Spike came swaggering into the room, wearing a crisp white shirt that was practically gleaming it was so pristine, his hat in his hand. “Was hoping to get there before dark.”

Buffy felt her smile grow until it seemed like her entire face might split in two. “I’m ready now.”

He grinned and took the heavy basket from her before settling his hat on his head and grasping her hand. “Come on then, kitten. We’re burning daylight.”

Buffy let him lead her out of the house, calling her goodbyes as Tara and Dawn shooed them along. Spike helped her up into the buckboard and tucked the food basket in by her feet before swinging himself up next to her. Buffy slid a little closer and settled her head against his nearly-healed shoulder. “You are a terribly impatient man.”

Spike glanced down at her, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s not every day a man gets to take his new bride for a little trip, sweetheart.”

“Where are we going?” Buffy bounced a little in anticipation. He’d refused to tell her anything so far, other than she should be prepared to be gone for the night.

“You’ll see,” Spike replied cheerfully. Buffy pouted at him but Spike merely leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips before snapping the reins. Buffy grasped ahold of Spike’s arm to keep her seat as the horse lurched forward and settled into an easy trot. She turned to wave one last time at the others, who’d gathered on Tara’s front porch to see them off. Tara’s house grew smaller and smaller until they rounded a bend in the road and she lost sight of it completely.

Buffy tucked herself against Spike’s side and watched the world slide by. The leaves were changing, dressing the trees up in pretty reds and golds. Spike steered them past the church and down along a familiar road that wound beside the creek. It wasn’t the fastest way to any nearby towns, but maybe that wasn’t what he had in mind. She supposed it didn’t matter where they ended up as long as he was there with her.

The churchyard faded into the distance and Buffy couldn’t dredge up any disappointment about not having the big wedding she’d thought she always wanted. They could save all that hoopla for Dawn. As far as Buffy was concerned nothing could have been more perfect than the quiet ceremony they’d had in Tara’s drawing room, with Spike’s shoulder wrapped in mountains of gauze and Buffy carrying a handful of wilting wildflowers Dawn had hastily gathered from a nearby field. Buffy had barely believed it was actually happening. Somehow, Liam hadn’t won.

She’d never felt more helpless than when she’d been waiting for help to arrive after Spike had been shot. The time between Spike slipping into unconsciousness and Dawn galloping in with the sheriff and several other townsmen had seemed to last an eternity for Buffy. Spike’s face had been so still and pale. He’d regained consciousness on the way back to Tara’s house, grimacing as the commandeered wagon jostled over the disused road. Buffy had gently squeezed his hand, having refused to be parted from him, and Spike had almost managed a smile. After that, Buffy found even the hovering presence of the sheriff easy to ignore.

The doctor had been cautiously optimistic about Spike’s chances for a full recovery, and Buffy had been more than willing to wait until Spike was back on his feet, but he’d declared that he wasn’t waiting one minute longer to marry her and that was that. So, barely a day after she’d thought she’d lost him, Spike promised her the rest of his life while the preacher looked on in mild bewilderment and Buffy struggled to hold back her tears. Xander had no such compunction.

Even having to help her new husband up the stairs so he could rest hadn’t dampered her happiness.

Tara had outdone herself, cooking enough food for a small army as their neighbors started trickling in to wish them well. Of course, most of them were more interested gossiping about Liam’s untimely demise and Spike’s rumored role in causing it, but they still found time to congratulate Buffy. Apparently the fact that the sheriff hadn’t arrested Spike right off was proof enough of a justifiable killing for most folks.

Anya had turned up, Mr. Giles in tow, and after waving off Buffy’s apologies for the ruined dress, had slipped Buffy a package that she’d made Buffy promise to open when she was alone. Later, after Buffy had checked in on a sleeping Spike, she’d locked herself in her room and discovered that Anya had gifted her with enough fancy underthings for several wedding nights.

Buffy had set about nursing her new husband back to health with vigor, and while Spike still favored his injured arm, it was miles better than it had been. Plenty good enough for a honeymoon, he’d whispered to her yesterday, just before she’d kissed him goodnight and retired to the room that would soon be Dawn’s alone.

Buffy gazed up at the bright blue sky, her body swaying in time with the buggy’s motion, and wondered if California could ever be this lovely. Spike hadn’t mentioned leaving since the day of the proposal but surely he didn’t plan on them staying here. There wasn’t much work for cowboys during the winter months this far north. She’d just have to enjoy the time they had left in this place.

Spike steered the horse onto a rutted road as they neared the creek and Buffy furrowed her brow. “There’s nothing out here, Spike. Where are we going?”

He glanced at her in amusement as their little cart rattled over the rough terrain. “Stop thinking so much, kitten.”

Buffy gently smacked his leg before tucking her hand under his arm to keep from losing her seat. Spike pulled the horse to a stop in an unfamiliar clearing and helped her down, grabbing the basket from the floorboards. “What about the rest?” Buffy asked, confused, looking back at the little satchel she’d borrowed from Willow with her second-best dress in it.

“Later,” Spike promised. “This is just the first stop.” She waited patiently with the food basket while he fussed over the horse, joining her and pulling her down a narrow path toward the water after everything was settled to his satisfaction.

He took her hand as they strolled along the creek and Buffy finally paid enough attention to their surroundings to recognize the path they were on. They were heading to her favorite spot, the one where she’d first seen him…well. She blushed and snuck a peek at the man beside her. Maybe she could ask for an encore. It wasn’t as though enjoying the sight of her husband naked was a sin, she was almost certain.

Buffy smiled at Spike as he helped her across a narrow part of the creek, balancing for a moment on one rock before Spike assisted her safely to the other side. She watched him carefully, trying not to lean on him too hard, but if his shoulder was bothering him she couldn’t tell in the slightest. Maybe it was time to relax her vigilance. Buffy threaded her fingers through his as they strolled towards their destination. “You are a very sweet man, you know that?”

“Don’t go spreading that around, kitten.”

Buffy laughed as their clearing came into view. It was a beautiful day. Just the faintest hint of a breeze rustled the yellowing leaves while the creek reflected bits of the cloudless sky. “I think it may be too late. Even the sheriff wished us well after he stopped by the house last week.”

She didn’t mention that it had been an especially begrudging congratulations. Thank goodness Riley cared enough about his reputation as a lawman to track down the remaining hired man who’d witnessed the gunfight. And thank goodness Liam was in the habit of cheating everyone around him. Even after she and Dawn had told their story so many times Buffy could practically recite it in her sleep, she could tell the sheriff had been itching to toss Spike back in a jail cell. Luckily, Liam’s man held no loyalty towards his former boss and his story had been the same. He’d even confessed to knocking Willow over the head.

Riley finally had to admit that no jury would convict a man for saving a fourteen year old girl from a lecherous creep. The discovery of Tara’s missing deed among Liam’s papers detailing his numerous debts had been the final nail in the coffin. Whatever financial boon Liam had promised Riley had obviously been a lie and the sheriff, despite being a gullible fool, was an honest enough man to be offended at the brazenness of Liam’s deception.  

“That sorry excuse for a sheriff should have been on his knees begging for your forgiveness,” Spike growled, bringing her back to the present. She shook her head to clear it and focused on the wonderful day ahead of her. Buffy gently patted his arm as he set down his burden and turned to her, his hand caressing her cheek. “After what he put you and Dawn through.”

“He didn’t know,” Buffy said apologetically. “Liam was-”

Spike frowned at her. “No more of him.”

Buffy stared up into his eyes, drinking in that face she loved so dearly. She rested her hands against his chest as he pulled her close, his hands on her hips. “I don’t want to forget him,” she said softly, shaking her head before Spike could reply. “Because without him I wouldn’t have you, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Spike’s eyes softened and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before letting her go. “Hungry, love?”

Buffy watched him spread out a blanket and settled herself down next to him as he dragged the food basket closer. He set his hat aside and frowned thoughtfully at the myriad of choices. She couldn’t stop watching him, the way his strong hands carefully unpacked their lunch, his unruly hair loose and shifting in the breeze, the long line of his legs stretched out in front of him.

She could hardly believe this was real, that she’d gotten everything she never thought she’d have. Perhaps the man in front of her was a little more unorthodox than the ones she used to dream up when she was a little girl, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She had a sneaking suspicion Spike might even have been able to win over her straight-laced mother. He started to unwrap a pasty before glancing over at her and stopping. He stared back with a small smile playing on his lips. “Buffy?”

“Yes,” she finally answered, reaching for him. “Very hungry.”

Spike’s smile turned brilliant as she toppled him over onto the blanket and clutched a fistful of his shirt before pressing her lips to his. The food was shoved aside, forgotten. She felt his hands circle her waist and hold her close as she explored his mouth. He tasted faintly of Tara’s sweet rolls and something muskier, something wholly Spike. He gripped a handful of her long hair and rolled them over, both of them panting as they broke the kiss.

“I guess I didn’t need to bring the poetry book after all,” he murmured, kissing along the curve of her ear as she wiggled closer to him and tried to kick off her shoes. Her hair was already loose and spilling over her shoulders. She’d barely pinned it up at all today in anticipation of him pulling it right back down. She loved how he touched her, how he set her body on fire with the merest brush of his fingertips.

“Later,” Buffy promised, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Spike was pulling up her skirts as they lost themselves in another heated kiss. Buffy slipped his shirt off his shoulders and managed to get one hand under the collar of his undershirt, feeling smooth skin and hard muscle under her hand. She moaned into his mouth and felt her heart beating like hummingbird wings in her chest. Spike flung one of her shoes over his shoulder and yanked so hard on one of her stockings she knew it would need mending later.

“So beautiful, my love,” he whispered into her hair as he hauled her upright and pulled her second stocking down, yanking off her other shoe and sending it tumbling off into the woods.

“William!” Buffy laughed breathlessly as Spike shrugged out of his starched white shirt and tossed it aside. “You’ll have to go find that later.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

Spike attacked the buttons on the front of her dress next, and she slapped his hands away when he started muttering curses under his breath. “Let me get them, I’m fond of this dress.” He lifted an eyebrow at her before sliding his hands up under her skirts while she tried to undo the tiny buttons with unsteady hands. “Oh!” she squeaked. He slipped his fingers under the edges of her drawers and traced circles on the bare skin of her legs. She was shaking with anticipation by the time the last button slipped free. “William,” she breathed, pulling him close again.

“My lovely Buffy,” he murmured as he dipped his head and kissed the tops of her breasts where they pushed up out of her corset, making her gasp. He peeled her top off and flung that away too.

She finally worked her hands up under his thin undershirt and he helped her pull it off over his head, leaving his torso bare. Buffy was transfixed by the sight of him, drinking in the play of shadows and sunshine over his lean chest. The only flaw was the pink, healing scar on his shoulder. The scar he’d gotten for her and Dawn. It was hardly bigger than a silver dollar, and she wondered how such a small thing had almost taken him from her. He watched as she reached up to touch his healing shoulder with a trembling hand. “William,” she whispered, her voice soft and low. “You know I love you?”

Spike gazed down at her for a long moment. The light in his eyes made the sunlit sky over his head dim in comparison. “I know, Buffy.” He leaned in to kiss her, starting with a gentle press of his lips that quickly became more urgent. He broke away to remove his boots and unbuckle his belt as she stared up at his handsome face and traced the line of his jaw with a finger. Buffy helped him unfasten her skirt and he slid it down off her legs along with her drawers as she lay there trying to catch her breath. The gurgling noise of the creek echoed through the clearing like a happy melody. She wanted him so badly she felt almost dizzy.

“I love this place,” Buffy said dazedly, watching the leaves dance over head while her husband finished undressing. The long line of his thigh was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, until he moved up over her again and stared into her eyes with an expression so loving it stole her breath away.

“Yeah?” Spike’s smile was faintly bemused.

Buffy reached up to pull him closer, feeling him settle into the cradle of her hips. She could feel all of him pressed against her, skin to skin. Her chest was heaving as he kissed her throat and his hands drew patterns on her bare thighs. “It’s where you first kissed me,” Buffy said, taking his face between her hands. “Where you made me whole again. And now it’s where we’ll first make love.”

Spike’s breath hitched as he captured her mouth in a kiss. She hadn’t known it could be like this. She could feel both of their hearts racing as her body opened up to him, welcomed him. “Buffy,” he groaned into her ear.

“My William,” she whispered back, lifting her hips towards his. She wished they could stay in this moment forever.


	14. Circle the Wagons

The sun was sliding towards the horizon when they finally made it back to where they’d left the horse, but Spike assured her they didn’t have far to go. Buffy was aching in the most amazing way and her entire body was loose and wonderfully weary. She’d asked if they could just stay in their clearing all night but he’d insisted they had somewhere to be. She wondered what could possibly be important enough for them to go anywhere at all.

“I don’t see why we can’t…”

“You’re not sleeping on the ground on our wedding night,” Spike said, exasperated.

“There’s nothing else out here!”

“Trust me, love.”

Buffy sighed and settled in to wait as he hitched up their horse to the buckboard again, his hands steady and sure. When he finished, he helped her up onto the seat before they set off once more.

The trees were casting long shadows as they turned off the main road and headed down a narrow cart path. Buffy furrowed her brow. They seemed to be going into the old Chase ranchlands, not away from them. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we going this way?”

She glanced at him and noticed that he looked nervous, which startled her. He always seemed so confident. “I thought…it’s not final, so it’s all right if you don’t want it but I know how much you like it here and maybe the memories aren’t good right now but we can change that, kitten, you and me and Dawn and-”

“Spike,” Buffy interrupted in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”

“Uh.” He took his hat off with one hand and hung it on his knee, running a hand through his messy hair. “Well, I don’t really have any family back home anymore and now there’s no reason to leave town, so I thought you might want to stay?” He was watching her anxiously out of the corner of his eye.

“Really?” Buffy hoped he wasn’t too disappointed by her eager tone. He had to know she’d go wherever he wanted, as long as they were together. “But what about you?”

Spike glanced at her in confusion as their horse plodded through the fading sunlight and a familiar two story ranch house came into view. “What about me?”

“What will you do here, Spike?”

Spike cleared his throat. He seemed almost embarrassed. “Uh, I thought maybe we could try out a bit of ranching, see how it goes?” He reined in the horse in front of the house and sat, quietly waiting, as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

Buffy blinked at him, and then at the house in front of her. It was as beautiful as she remembered, the windows all glinting with the final rays of the evening sun. The paint on the porch railings was still peeling a bit, just as she’d noticed before, but that was a simple thing to fix.  The house itself stood straight and tall and strong. Maybe there were a few bad memories here, she mused, feeling Spike’s gaze on her as she silently took in the old Chase homestead, but there were already some good ones too. It was where she’d first realized she loved him. It was where she had stood up to a man who’d hurt and frightened her. It was a good place for new beginnings.

“How?” she finally whispered.

Spike shrugged. “Sold the family estate back home. Nothing there for me now.”

“You had a family estate?” Buffy asked in disbelief.

Spike’s smile was faintly sheepish. “We’re set for a long while, kitten.”

“Oh.” Buffy felt awe wash through her. This was it: where they’d start over again, together. She’d thought the moment in Tara’s drawing room with the preacher and a handful of their friends was their new beginning, but she’d been wrong. It was right here, where they’d both ended their previous lives and started one together. Maybe she would plant a nice rosebush where Liam had taken his last breath as a reminder that life was precious.

Spike finally got down out of the cart and moved to help her down as well. Buffy laced their fingers together as they stood side by side and stared at the front of the house. The porch was as wide and welcoming as she remembered, wrapping all the way around one side and disappearing. She could picture herself sitting out here on nights just like this one. They could watch the stars before heading in to bed, just as she’d imagined.

“It’s perfect.”

Spike let out a long breath. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Buffy nodded her head decisively. Spike tugged her close and kissed her temple before scooping her up off her feet. She squealed in surprise. “What are you doing? Be careful; your shoulder!”

“What do you think?” Spike asked cheerfully as he mounted the porch steps. “Stop fussing, love, you’ve nursed me long enough.”

“I’d start spreading rumors about your hopeless romantic streak.” Buffy said affectionately, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Except I don’t want anyone to steal you from me.”

Spike fumbled with the doorknob, finally managing to kick the door open while Buffy giggled in his arms. “Please, I’ve seen those paperbacks you think you’re hiding. Someone has a bit of a romantic streak herself.” Buffy tucked her head in against the curve of his neck and kissed his throat as he stepped into the dim foyer and finally set her down again. “Besides.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “You know you’re the only woman for me, Buffy.”

Buffy went up on tiptoes, her arms still encircling his neck, and tipped her head back so she could see his face. “Prove it.”

Spike narrowed his eyes at her and made a wonderful growling noise in his throat that caused her entire body to snap to attention. He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the curving staircase that led to the second floor as Buffy let out a breathless laugh, trying to keep up.

She tugged on his hand. “William.”

He turned, slowing down a bit to accommodate her stride as they climbed the stairs together. She had the joyful realization that this was just the first of many, many nights that would end the same way. The banister was smooth under her hand, and one of the steps creaked a bit just like the front porch stairs at Tara’s house, welcoming her home. “Yes, my love?”

“Are you happy?” They reached the top and Buffy lifted her hands to cradle his face so she could see his eyes in the dim evening light. Dust motes danced through the hall, catching the last rays of the sun. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was a figment of his imagination made flesh.

Spike caressed her cheek before sliding a hand up into her hair. The kiss he pressed to her lips was both sweet and passionate, igniting something deep within her. A lamp was burning in the bedroom just over his shoulder and she sent up a brief thank you to whichever friend had come to prepare the house for them. Their new home. It all seemed so incredible.

Without releasing his hold on her, Spike slowly walked them towards the lighted bedroom. Buffy couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. “Sometimes I worry that I’ll wake up and find out all of this was just a dream. It’s not a dream though, Buffy, is it?”

“If it is,” Buffy said softly, her fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “I hope we never wake up.”

***

Buffy slowly swam towards consciousness. When had she fallen asleep? Her body felt heavy and strange, like it was still struggling towards wakefulness. Had something happened to her? Or to Spike? She fought to open her eyes, suddenly worried.

“William?”

She felt the strong planes of his chest rise and fall under her cheek, and one of his arms tightened around her waist. The rest of her was lying on something soft, although she didn’t remember going to bed. Had he carried her there? A puff of breath crossed her ear as he exhaled heavily.

“Here, love.” His voice was weak, like he was having trouble waking up too. “Are you all right?”

Buffy finally got her eyes to open, his face gradually coming into focus just in front of her. She reached up to touch his cheek. “What happened?”

He looked as confused as she felt. “I don’t…” he trailed off, his eyes softening. “You okay, kitten?”

Buffy smiled, relaxing a little. Just his presence there beside her made her feel better. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good,” Spike murmured, his hand skimming along her back and up into her hair, drawing her in for a kiss. His lips were soft and the kiss was lingering, a promise of better things to come. Buffy wiggled so their bodies were aligned from head to toe and sighed, trailing her fingers down his chest. Maybe they’d fallen asleep in their new bedroom and she’d just gotten disoriented. They’d apparently left the lamp burning as well, although she didn’t recall it being quite so bright. Spike was just slipping a hand down towards her breasts when a loud throat-clearing interrupted them.

Buffy pulled back with a blush and then she blinked, bewildered. “Dawn?”

Her little sister was staring at her with her eyebrows up to her hairline and her arms crossed. Willow was standing next to Dawn, her mouth hanging open in shock, and they were both dressed so strangely, with their hair down and…

Buffy yelped and threw herself backwards, landing on her butt next to the couch in her mom’s house.

Spike sat up so suddenly he looked like a jack-in-the-box. “What the bloody hell?”

"Yeah, that’s what we said,” Dawn sniped.

Buffy refused to look at the vampire as she climbed shakily to her feet. She braced herself against the arm of the couch so she could stay upright. Her clothes felt too tight and too loose in all the wrong places and for a moment she wished she had some pins to keep her hair out of her face. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and took a long, slow breath before opening them again and staring straight at Willow. “What did you do?”

“I just…showed Spike what would happen if his dreams had any basis in reality?” Willow nervously clasped her hands together in front of her, her expression unhappy.

Buffy blinked at her friend, her mind spinning in a hundred directions. Everything had seemed so real: the town, Tara’s cooking, Spike’s…she shook her head. “Uh, no you didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what it was supposed to do!”

“Christ.” Spike was rubbing his temples with both hands, looking incredibly weary. “Knew I shouldn’t have watched that cowboy movie marathon.”

Buffy felt a shiver zip up her spine at the sound of his voice. She told herself it was disgust. Just like what she’d felt earlier, when they’d been kissing. He was an evil vampire! This whole thing was perverse. Willow must have messed up the spell. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. There was no way that she…that he…that any of it was possible. And seriously, that was what Spike dreamed about? It was so incredibly tame, even with the fistfights and the shootout. He was a really weird vampire. Buffy took another deep breath and tried to shove away all the confusing dream-memories swirling through her brain.

“What was it like?” Dawn asked eagerly.

Buffy frowned at her sister. The fake memories of what had happened to Dawn were crystal clear, surprisingly realistic, and something to focus on besides Spike.  “Promise me you won’t leave the house tonight, because I swear you’ll figure out how to get kidnapped.”

“Hey!” Dawn looked insulted. “I hardly ever get kidnapped anymore!”

Spike snorted from the couch. “Please, bit. I’m too knackered to chase you down.”

“You guys were asleep for like three _hours_ ,” Dawn said, annoyed. “And jeez, it sure didn’t look like things ended very dusty, did it, Willow?”

All eyes turned to Willow, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. “I’m, um, still working out the kinks on that one.”

Buffy tried to move but found she was still pretty woozy. She leaned heavily on one arm of the couch and finally let herself sit, studiously avoiding looking at the vampire at the other end. Spike’s head was in his hands and he was groaning loudly. “Christ, Red, what did you do that for?”

“The spell was just supposed to show you how your fantasies about Buffy would actually turn out!”

Buffy’s eyes went wide and she felt her entire body flush as images of everything she’d done with Spike from his apparent dreamworld flashed through her mind. “Oh god, I hope not,” Buffy said weakly.

“Hey!” Spike sounded offended. “I killed that blighter for you, ungrateful wench!”

Buffy finally allowed herself to face him, her temper flaring. His hurt expression made her insides twist, but the words came tumbling out of her mouth anyways. “You didn’t do anything, Spike! It wasn’t real!” She barely stopped herself from flinching when she saw the pain flash through his eyes. Buffy crossed her arms and balled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for the vampire sitting mere feet from her. He wasn’t William; that was just a caricature he’d made up in his head. She wondered why the Powers seemed so determined to rob her of any source of happiness lately.

“Who’d you kill?” Dawn asked, perking up.

“Angelus.” Spike shrugged.

Dawn grinned. “Cool.”

Spike managed a slight grin in return. “Was, actually.” He looked and sounded so much like William in that moment.

Buffy dropped her head into her hands. Her stomach was tied up in knots and her eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He’d been so…but it wasn’t real. None of it was real, and it was all Spike’s fault. “Oh my god, shut _up_ , Spike,” Buffy groaned. He turned to her, concern plain on his face, and it was all she could do to stop her body from swaying towards him. Buffy blinked and quickly looked away.

“So, what was it like? I mean, skip all the gross mushy parts, obviously, but there must have been cool stuff if you were killing Angel.” Dawn sounded entirely too chipper about this crazy affair.

“No!” Buffy blurted. God, she had to get out of here. Just being in the same room as Spike made her whole body ache with unfulfilled need. “I mean, um, it’s getting hard to remember, right Spike?” She had to concentrate to make sure her tone was sharp rather than pleading when she said his name. 

Spike eyed her like he wanted to argue before his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Yeah, sure. Can’t remember a thing, kitten.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest the pet name but couldn’t summon the energy to make it sound sincere. The endearment eased the hollow ache in her chest just enough so that she thought she might be able to make it to her bedroom before she fell apart completely. Everything had seemed so real _._ She could still smell the spilled beer and drifting smoke in the saloon, and picture the careful stitches she’d put into Spike’s—the other Spike’s—jacket. Part of her was still humming in anticipation of spending the night together, just the two of them in a big, empty house where…ugh! She was going insane. She couldn’t be with him like that here. Or anywhere! And it hadn’t even been him at all.

Dawn looked between the two of them, perplexed. “Uh, okay weirdos. I have school in the morning anyways. You’re welcome for making sure you didn’t choke on your own _tongues_.” She flounced off, heading for the stairs before she paused in the doorway of the living room. “Oh yeah, and Mom says you’re not allowed to stake Spike in the house. So there.” Dawn tossed her hair and continued her dramatic exit. Buffy watched her go, feeling inexplicably relieved that Dawn seemed to be the same as ever. Maybe, eventually, she’d feel normal again too.

Buffy realized she hadn’t even thought of staking the vampire since she’d woken up and a shiver worked its way up her spine. She was definitely still loopy from Willow’s spell. They all heard Dawn’s bedroom door slam.

Willow frowned at Buffy, her expression worried. “You don’t look okay, was it that bad?”

Buffy opened her mouth to say yes, it was absolutely horrible _,_ but the words got caught in her throat. It hadn’t been horrible in the least, except for the waking up part. She saw Spike shoot her a perplexed glance when she didn’t reply. Buffy stood instead, ignoring the question. Her legs were still wobbly. “I’m going to bed, too.” She took one step and had to brace herself before she took another one. Boy, fantasy-travel really took it out of a girl.

Willow edged toward the front door. “I’ll just…I’m sorry, Buffy. I don’t know what went wrong. It should have worked! I just wanted to help. I mean, if Spike really thinks he-” She glanced at the vampire, who was still slumped over on one end of the couch looking vaguely ill, and lowered her voice. “Loves you or whatever, we have to do something to make him stop, right?”

Buffy lifted one shoulder. She really didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought anything could possibly be worse than trying to deflect Spike’s bizarre declaration of love from earlier—was that just tonight? It must have been. It felt like a hundred years ago. But now she had this whole other Spike taking up residence in her head and throwing everything she thought she’d known into confusion. Maybe William hadn’t been real, but everything she’d felt for him was still lodged in her heart, and it hurt so much to know she’d never have that again. “It’s…it’ll be fine,” she finally managed to get out.

Willow glanced nervously at her one last time before slinking out the front door.

Buffy steeled herself, then turned to stare at Spike, bracing herself against the doorway to the living room. He looked as overwhelmed as she felt just then. Buffy knew she should tell him to get out of her house and never come back, but the thought of him leaving made her feel like Angelus had shot him all over again. “You can, um, stay on the couch if you want.” Spike stared at her in confusion. Buffy cast around for a reason that wouldn’t sound insane. “Mom probably wouldn’t mind, I mean.” She felt her knees tremble and her grip on the doorframe tightened. “Just…just be gone in the morning,” she said hoarsely. She’d feel better by then. She had to feel better by then. 

Spike nodded hesitantly, watching her with such a solemn look that she wanted to launch herself into his arms just to see if they fit together here the way they had so perfectly back in that place his mind had created. Buffy clenched her jaw and turned stiffly, trying to keep herself under control. He wasn’t human, even if he seemed it a lot of the time. She couldn’t forget that.

“Thanks, pet.” His voice was soft and low and if she didn’t turn around, she could almost pretend they were the last words she’d ever hear from her William.

She climbed the stairs alone; feeling like her heart was breaking.


	15. A Lick of Sense

The house was quiet when Buffy woke up. The bed was soft enough that she contemplated luxuriating in it for a while, but she could smell something unidentifiable wafting from downstairs that she should probably investigate.

The sun was just peeking in through her window, bathing the room in a soft glow. Buffy climbed out of bed and hunted up a robe, cinching it over her nightgown before descending the stairs. The smell was stronger down here, like something had been burnt. She hoped Dawn hadn’t been left unsupervised to make her own breakfast again.

It wasn’t Dawn she found in the kitchen.

Buffy leaned up against the doorway, unable to stop the smile from curving her lips. William was bent over the sink, scrubbing a pan and cursing under his breath. He was wearing just an undershirt and a pair of trousers, with his unruly brown hair curling down over his forehead while he attacked the crusted remains of something she assumed had been eggs. He didn’t seem to have noticed her.

Buffy crossed the kitchen on light feet, sliding her arms around his waist and making him yelp in surprise as he dropped the pan with a clatter. A giggle bubbled up out of her throat as she hooked her chin over his shoulder. “Are you cooking?”

Spike turned around to face her and she settled in against his chest as he pulled her close. His hands were still wet, but she couldn’t bring herself to chastise him for it. Her robe could withstand a little soap and water. “Trying to,” he sighed.

Buffy lifted up on her tiptoes and gave him an affectionate kiss on the tip of his nose. “Aren’t there still some sweet rolls in the fridge?”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Think so.” He bent down to kiss her properly, leaving her breathless. “Just wanted to do something special for my wife, that’s all.”

“Spike,” Buffy said fondly, her fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “You’ve done plenty.”

He grinned down at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Want to do it again?”

Buffy smacked his chest halfheartedly and felt herself blush. “Hush, you.”

Spike laughed. She could feel the sound rumbling through his chest and slid her hand down to rest over the spot where his heart lay. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. “Do you want to pick out a room for Dawn?” he asked.

Buffy looked up at him, confused. “Dawn already has a room.”

A frown crossed Spike’s face and he absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, kitten, didn’t know it was already decided. Want to go to Tara’s and start packing then?”

“What?” Buffy asked. She took a step back. “Pack what?”

Spike tilted his head, gazing quizzically at her. “Your things, love. Don’t you want them here at the house?”

Buffy looked around, but the house looked the same as ever. Photos of her and Dawn and Mom grinned at her from the fridge, the radio was perched on its shelf, and a scattering of mugs were drying by the sink from last night’s hot cocoa. “But my things are already here.”

Spike ran a hand through his hair, which suddenly seemed shorter and lighter than she remembered. “Oh.” He looked around too. “Well, I’ll guess I’ll be going then.”

“What?” Buffy reached out to grasp his arm, but he was already opening the back door. The sun was bright now, and she squinted against the glare. For some reason, the sight of Spike bathed in sunlight made her heart lurch in her chest. “Be careful!”

His smile was more blinding than the sunlight. “You know me better than that, kitten.”

***

Buffy sat up in bed with a gasp, her heart pounding. She dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, willing away the hot tears that threatened to spill over.

She’d thought she would feel better after a couple of days, but her heartache just seemed to be getting worse. She’d been avoiding everyone, especially Willow, who seemed determined to drag every last detail that Buffy claimed not to remember out of her so that her friend could “fix” whatever had gone wrong with the spell.

Buffy had a sinking feeling that nothing had gone wrong in the first place.

She’d already spent an entire day locked in her room trying to convince herself that Spike—vampire-Spike—had absolutely nothing in common with other-Spike. The problem was it hurt so much to remember the dream version of Spike that she’d had to squeeze in her convincing between crying jags. She’d finally given up when Dawn had started pounding on her door saying that Mom was demanding she come down for dinner.

Buffy stared sightlessly out the window at the setting sun. Maybe she should patrol tonight and get back to her normal routine. At the very least it would distract her from all the thinking she was doing. She could feel a headache forming behind her left temple. Swiping at her eyes one last time, she threw back the covers and rummaged through her closet, trying to find something to wear. Nothing seemed quite right, which was ridiculous. She had more clothes in this version of her life than all the girls put together in the town she’d dreamed she was a part of.

Finally she found a pair of jeans that fit just right, along with a comfy sweater that reminded her of something other-Tara would have knit. She cast around her room trying to find a wrap for at least half a minute before realizing what she was doing and pulling a jacket out of her closet.

Her hair was another ordeal. She spent so long curling it that Dawn started banging on the door and yelling about her constitutional bathroom rights. Buffy ceded the room long enough for her sister to get ready for bed. (And had she really taken that long to get ready? A glance at her clock said yes.) Finally, after three more attempts at a practical Slaying hairstyle that still looked cute, Buffy had just taken the mass of hair on her head and somehow, effortlessly, shaped it into an elegant chignon. She slipped the last bobby pin in and stared at herself in the mirror. How was it that this version of herself was more familiar than the real live version she was supposed to be? She almost took her hair down again in a fit of pique, but it really did look fantastic, so she left it.

At last, she was ready to go. Buffy grabbed her jacket and almost immediately ran into her mother in the hallway. “Oh,” Joyce said, surprised. “I thought you’d left already, honey.”

“Um, just heading out on a late patrol,” Buffy said lamely.

Joyce smiled at her affectionately. “I like your hair like that.”

A sudden memory of her other-mom patiently teaching her how to get her hair to look exactly like this assaulted her and Buffy felt tears welling up again. She blinked them back with difficulty. “Thank you.” 

Joyce patted her arm. “Be careful. Don’t forget to turn out the porch light when you get home.”

“Of course.” Buffy watched her mom head to bed before going downstairs. The strangest part of not being in the dream world was how normal everyone else was. Didn’t they realize how much had changed? How she had changed? It felt like she’d lived a lifetime while she was away, and the only person who might understand was…well, not a person. Buffy slipped out the kitchen door with a heavy heart.

***

One lousy fledge. She’d been wandering the graveyards for what felt like forever and dusted just one lousy fledge. Where were all the demons and vampires hiding tonight? She sighed heavily and glanced up at the sky. The moon was just a sliver, letting the stars shine bright. Well, as bright as they could with the lights of Sunnydale interfering. Buffy felt an irrational irritation at modern electricity welling up inside her, which was ridiculous. She loved modern conveniences! She didn’t even like camping and that was way more luxurious than the olden days she’d been forced to experience without hairdryers or pop music and only one pair of shoes.

Maybe the spell had done something to her, like made her more…old-timey or something. Buffy pictured herself riding around on those stinky horses all the time and wrinkled her nose. Maybe not. She sighed again and wandered through a couple rows of undisturbed graves. A noise nearby had her whirling around, her stake poised in anticipation.

Willow yelped and raised her hands in surrender while Tara waved nervously from behind her girlfriend.

“Um, it’s just us,” Willow said. “We were actually heading home because we figured you forgot.”

“Forgot?” 

“That we were going to keep you company on patrol tonight? Remember, because of that creepazoid, Spike?”

Buffy’s heart lurched painfully in her chest. “Spike?” she repeated helplessly.

Willow looked at her strangely. “The chipped vampire with a crush on you?” Willow shook her head. “You know, if we were still taking psych he would make a really great case stud-”

Tara put a restraining hand on Willow’s arm. “Have you been out here long?” Tara asked softly.

Buffy shrugged. She could have been patrolling for ten minutes or three hours for all she knew. She’d felt completely out of sorts since she’d woken up from that spell, like a piece of her had been lost somewhere along the way. Which was just silly. She hadn’t gone anywhere; she’d been caught in Spike’s entirely overdramatic dream and slept for a couple of hours, that was all. She tried to smile for her friends. “I’m fine,” she said.

Willow frowned at her and exchanged glances with Tara. “Are you…Buffy, are you remembering anything? I know it’s probably horrible and you don’t want to talk about it but…”

Buffy shook her head vehemently. “No! Uh, I mean, no, I’m not remembering. I’m just…tired.” She picked a direction at random and started walking. Willow and Tara trailed after her. She increased her pace but they seemed to have no intention of leaving her alone tonight, so she slowed her steps resignedly. They meant well. It wasn’t like they actually knew anything about Spike’s weird alterna-verse where everything was perfect and…Buffy’s vision blurred for a second as she regained control of her emotions.

“Buffy?” Willow asked in concern. Tara was hanging back, probably trying to give them some space. “It’s okay if you do remember and you don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I wouldn’t want to remember being Spike’s…vampire queen or whatever.” Willow screwed up her face in disgust. “I just was hoping to figure out how I messed up the spell. Tara said maybe we could experiment with it…”

Tara cleared her throat behind them.

“ _Study_ it,” Willow corrected herself. “You know, if we could get a baseline from you. You don’t have to be specific or anything, just, maybe you could tell me when things seemed to start going wrong?”

Buffy’s chest tightened and her throat felt so dry it was hard to force any words out. “Wrong?”

Willow nodded slowly. “Yeah, I mean, I think maybe you got pulled in because it was basically about you, and I was doing some more reading and that spell was used sometimes to see if two people were, you know, compatible, by letting them share a dream. Tara and I thought…” Willow shot a small smile at her girlfriend. “We thought maybe we’d try it out later, but I wanted to see if you remembered anything first.”

Buffy’s stomach felt like it was twisting itself into knots. “Compatible?” She stopped in front of a familiar crypt, although really she’d been through these graveyards so many times all the crypts were familiar. There was no reason her feet had carried her to this one. No reason at all. She stared at the heavy door. Spike might be on the other side of that door. Vampire-Spike, not other-Spike. Not William, she reminded herself. She could remember exactly how he’d looked at her the night they’d snuck away from her neighbor’s party and she nearly begged him not to go after Liam. His eyes had been filled with such hope and regret and love. It was almost exactly like how Spike had looked at her after they’d woken up. Buffy’s knees trembled and threatened to give out.

Buffy was jerked back to reality by Tara’s voice. “We’re not sure, of course. Willow’s just hypothesizing. We’ve been spending a lot of time studying spell theory lately.”

Willow glanced at Buffy guiltily. “Um, right. It’s studying only for this witch until I get a handle on the basics. I was just read-”

“What happens if the spell works?” Buffy asked abruptly.

“What?” Willow said, sounding perplexed.

“It was just a dream, right? Spike made it all up, so none of it was real.” Buffy hoped they couldn’t hear the tinge of desperation in her voice.

“Oh,” Willow nodded, her expression becoming serious. “Well, if the spell had worked right, it would have been his dream to start with, but then it would have conformed to certain parameters in order to force a realistic outcome. Like, you could dream you were dating Leonardo DiCaprio, but eventually your relationship would fall apart because, duh, he only dates supermodels.”

Buffy blinked at her friend.

“Not that you’re not really pretty!” Willow said hastily. “But you’re just not tall enough to be a supermodel. Why do you think they’re all so tall, anyways?”

“Anyways,” Tara interjected, glancing at Willow in amusement. “Your dream self would still be you, and whoever you were including in your dream would probably start out behaving just like you imagined, but then they’d slowly become more and more like themselves so the dream could steer you to the truest end.”

“But,” Buffy said, trying to wrap her mind around what they were saying. “We were both asleep, so that’s why…I mean, would I get stuck playing my part?”

 Tara’s brow furrowed slightly. “From what we’ve read, once you got involved you should have had the ability to change whatever you wanted in the dream.”

Buffy wondered if either Tara or Willow could tell how lightheaded she was feeling. “Oh,” she said weakly. “Well, that’s…oh.”

Willow patted her arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out another way to snap Spike out of his weird delusions.”

Buffy stared at the crypt door in front of her, her mind a tangle of emotions. “Sure.”

Tara frowned. “Buffy, are you sure you’re up to patrolling? Sometimes unfocused spellwork can really…”

“It wasn’t unfocused!” Willow protested. “I only aimed it at Spike!”

Tara bit her lip and glanced at her girlfriend before continuing. “Maybe you need another night to recover. A lot’s happened lately, between Dawn and Glory and then this…” she paused for a second, “thing with Spike. It must feel a little overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Buffy replied absently. “He is. It is, I mean! It’s a lot.” 

Tara gave her a sympathetic smile. “I guess we’ll head home then, if you’re calling it a night.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” Willow sighed. “I’ve got an early class.”

Buffy hunched up her shoulders, suddenly tense. She missed it sometimes, that semi-normal life she’d had before she’d quit college to help her mom. For one brief, shining moment she’d been a girl who’d complained about midterms and cafeteria food while dating a hunky upperclassman, just like thousands of other girls. Well, kind of like other girls. Other than the nighttime Slaying duties. And all that time she spent listening to Giles drone on about weird, occult-y things when she really should have been studying for midterms. And then, to top it all off, her hunky boyfriend had turned out to be a demon-hunting commando with a vampire bite fetish. So maybe not really normal.

“You’ll be okay walking home?” Willow asked.

“Sure.” Buffy felt kind of like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Or maybe her corset was a little too tight. She glanced down and remembered she wasn’t wearing one.

 “Go get some rest,” Tara said.

“Okay,” Buffy said absently, kicking a piece of broken bottle that was littering the grass. “Thanks.”

“Night, Buffy.” Willow interlaced her fingers with Tara’s and was tugging her girlfriend away. “See you tomorrow.”

Buffy watched them go, unable to move from her spot in front of Spike’s crypt. Willow’s chatter faded into the distance until the graveyard was silent again. Buffy strained her ears, trying to hear anything at all coming from inside the crypt, but either Spike was out or he was being uncharacteristically quiet. Her vampire tinglies were just as silent, but that didn’t mean much. She’d been around him so often lately that they seemed to have stopped working on that particular vampire. 

She wondered what Spike thought of their strange little adventure. Did he really think he could be the sort of man that she… Buffy sucked in a shuddering breath. That was impossible. Willow must have messed up the spell, like she’d said.

It was just so hard to remember that it hadn’t been real. How was it that a vampire’s insane daydream had given her more normalcy than her real life ever had? Sure, maybe her pretend-life hadn’t been all sunshine and daisies, at least not at first, until…Buffy sniffled a little. Dammit, she wasn’t going to cry anymore!

She forced her feet to move, aimlessly wandering through the dark graveyard until she found a tombstone with a nice flat top for her to perch on. She settled onto it, feeling the cold seep through her jeans. She stared sightlessly up at the sky and wondered how messed up her life had to be to even consider what she was considering. It just hurt, that’s all. She’d been so happy and then the rug had been pulled out from under her once again.

Buffy drew her knees up and hugged them tightly. She had to focus; there was too much at stake. Dawn was her priority no matter what reality she was in. Her sister needed protecting. Sure, she’d much rather go a few more rounds with dumb Liam (and jeez, talk about making Angel into an over the top bad guy), but here she had to battle Glory. Who was a God.

She tried to take stock of her situation. So she no longer had a commando-boyfriend for backup, that wasn’t a problem. She’d managed just fine without him in the other world and she could manage here too. She had herself, and Giles’ brains, and Willow’s witchy magic when it worked right, and Xander’s…and Xander. She glanced in the direction of Spike’s crypt. And maybe one more, if she could just pull herself together and stop mourning a man who’d never existed.

She cast one last look at the bright stars and let herself imagine, for one brief, shining second, that she was standing on a familiar porch in the darkness. The feel of cold stone under her faded, replaced by the radiant heat of William’s chest pressed against her back, his arms tight around her waist and his breath tickling her ear.

A sudden noise startled Buffy out of her daydream. She inhaled, trembling, and grasped the edge of the stone under her until her knuckles turned white. The noise happened again and she turned just in time to catch sight of a bird taking flight from a tree. Buffy watched as it disappeared into the night sky and decided it was time for her to go home, too. There were no monsters here for her to slay tonight.

She unfolded her legs and stood up. She could do this; she just had to be strong. William had believed in her, there in that other world. His absence was like a gaping hole inside of her, but she could still be that Buffy. His Buffy.

Everything would be better in the morning.


	16. Double Down

Everything was definitely not better in the morning.

Buffy had spilled the last of the coffee and burned the toast she’d been attempting to make for breakfast. As she cleaned it all up, she’d half-expected Tara to come bustling in to scold her for attempting to cook, but of course this wasn’t Tara’s kitchen. Instead, Dawn had stepped over the coffee puddle and made a bowl a cereal, ignoring Buffy completely.

Her mom had gone into the gallery, even though it was the weekend, to try and catch up on everything she’d let slide while she was in the hospital. Buffy had been worried about the strain, but her mom had waved off her concern and cheerfully sailed out the door.

The hot water had run out halfway through her (admittedly lengthy) shower and she’d had to finish rinsing the conditioner out of her hair with water cold enough to ruin any relaxing qualities the shower might have provided.

The final straw had been her inability to find her favorite pair of boots.

“Dawn!” Buffy yelled, shoving aside yet another pair of not-favorite boots; ones that had heels just a smidge too high and always caused her to overbalance when she kicked things. They were really cute for Bronze-ing though.

“What?” Dawn yelled back from down the hall.

Buffy stormed out of her room to glower at her sister. Dawn was leaning over her dresser towards her mirror, putting on some kind of pink, sparkly lip gloss. It took everything Buffy had not to smack the makeup out of Dawn’s hand and tell her that sort of thing was only for the dance-hall girls. She took a deep breath. “Have you seen my…hey!”

Dawn raised her eyebrows disdainfully. “I haven’t seen any hay.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure how Dawn did it, but her sister managed to be totally annoying in any reality. At least in this one it wasn’t her responsibility to keep Dawn away from boys and haylofts. “Give me back my boots.”

Dawn let out an outraged gasp. “But Janet’s mom is taking us to the mall, and you haven’t left the house to do anything but patrol in like a week!”

“It hasn’t been a week!” Buffy protested. “And I’m going to, uh…the Magic Box. To see Giles.” Dawn didn’t look convinced. “For training.” Buffy added.

Dawn snorted and eyed her in the mirror. “Right. And you don’t remember anything about that spell-dream with Spike, either. I’m not stupid, you know.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “How did you…I mean, I don’t!”

Dawn whirled around and glared. “You’re going to stake him now, aren’t you?” If Buffy wasn’t so hyper-aware of making sure she reacted how everyone was expecting her to since she’d woken up, she probably would have missed the tremor in Dawn’s voice.

“Dawn,” Buffy said softly, the anger draining from her all at once.

“It wasn’t his fault! Willow’s the one who did the spell wrong!”

Buffy sighed. “Dawn, I’m not going to stake him.”

“And…huh?” Dawn paused, confusion written across her face. “You’re not?” Hope quickly replaced confusion. “Really?”

“Really.” Buffy dropped onto Dawn’s bed and picked up one of the random stuffed animals her sister pretended she didn’t still sleep with, absently fiddling with its button eyes. Dawn appeared momentarily speechless. “He’s not…I mean, he hasn’t…” Buffy frowned at the purple, fuzzy bear in her hands. “I know it wasn’t his fault.”

Dawn looked relieved. She sat down on the bed next to Buffy. “Was it that bad?” Dawn asked quietly.

“No,” Buffy admitted, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “No, it really wasn’t bad at all.”

Dawn seemed slightly alarmed by Buffy’s sudden change of mood. “But, that’s good, right? That it wasn’t bad?”

Buffy let out a cheerless laugh. “Oh, yeah, it’s great. Some of the best parts of my life weren’t real, and I spent them with a man who’s actually an evil vampire. Things couldn’t be better.”

Dawn blinked at her. “Oh, well…um.” She hesitantly patted Buffy’s shoulder before laying her head on it. “Want to borrow Violet?” She indicated the bear in Buffy’s hands.

This time her laugh was more genuine. “No, thanks Dawn.” Luckily, she had Mr. Gordo to keep her company.

They sat in silence for a minute.

Dawn finally broke the spell. “Can I still borrow your boots?”

“You better not scuff them.”

***

Buffy punched the sumo-suit a few more times as Xander awkwardly waddled at her, but she still couldn’t stop the tumble of memories—fake memories!—that seemed to be burned into her brain. And the impromptu training session she’d roped Giles and Xander into wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Every morning she woke up and expected to find herself back in that little town, in the house she and Spike would make a home. In the strange between-time when she wasn’t quite asleep but not yet all the way awake, she could picture their front porch with a fresh coat of paint and a newly-planted rosebush growing beside the staircase that led to the front door. She smelled the cool, crisp air of a springtime morning mixed with woodsmoke from last night’s fire. She could see herself braced against the porchrail, holding two fresh cups of coffee and waiting for…Buffy inhaled sharply and reminded herself sharply that none of that was real. Something was seriously wrong with her.

“Buffy!” Giles was shouting to get her attention.

“Hm?” Buffy focused on her Watcher’s concerned face. “What?”

“Uh, you stopped punching me, like, five minutes ago. Are you okay?” Xander interjected, looking as concerned as he was able to in a giant puffy suit.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know, Xander. Am I?” She felt her eyes grow damp for the millionth time that day. Ugh, when had she turned into such a girl? She teared up more now than she had when Riley had taken off. How long ago had that been? It was hard to keep everything in the real world straight when her mind kept wandering back into Spike’s fantasyland. It was also hard to remember that she might have loved Riley here, when all she’d felt towards other-Riley was irritation and frustration. The worst part was, nothing about other-Riley was really that different from real-Riley. The two versions of him seemed so intertwined that she couldn’t get too worked up about him leaving her at all. Either way, in the end she couldn’t rely on him. She swiped angrily at her eyes with one hand. “God, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing?” Xander sounded like he might be panicking but it was hard to tell under all the padding.

“There must be!” Buffy said, flinging up her hands in frustration before starting to pick at the athletic tape wound around her palms. “Everything’s falling apart. I can’t beat Glory, I can’t fix Mom, and I can’t even keep a boyfriend! I mean, except when he’s a stupid, evil vampire who dreams he’s a big dumb hero. Ugh!” She completely tore off one strip of tape in frustration and starting working on the other.

Giles started vigorously cleaning his glasses. “Buffy, really, you need to concentrate on-”

“Huh?” Xander interrupted, sounding confused. “Are we talking about your weird vampire mind-meld? I thought Willow said you couldn’t remember any of that.”

“Of course I can’t!” Buffy snapped, her tears drying up before they fell. “I’m just, um, assuming.”

Xander frowned. “Okay, but if you need to talk about anything…”

“I don’t.” She ripped the second piece of tape free with a lot more force than was probably necessary and winced.

Xander regarded her skeptically. “Sure, Buff. Listen, I know things have been hard since Riley left but you’ll find someone someday. Or maybe he’ll come back?”

The thought of Riley’s abrupt departure still turned Buffy’s stomach, but in a different way than it had before. She could barely picture his face anymore without that judgmental look he’d worn in both worlds when he’d left her to protect Dawn all by herself. If he’d really loved her, wouldn’t he have stayed and tried to help even if it meant he might get hurt?

Buffy’s lower lip trembled as the horrifying, slow-motion replay of William collapsing to the ground flitted through her mind. It made her heart constrict just as strongly as it had the first time she’d witnessed it. God, stupid Spike and his stupid heroic daydreams with his stupid loving eyes—that somehow managed to look the same in either world—had ruined her. There was no way her real life would ever be anything remotely like that, because apparently her life sucked. And all men sucked. A lot. She took a moment to glare at Xander.

“Okay!” Xander held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and took a waddling step back. “I’m just going to go…far away from here. Uh, we’re still going to that party tonight though, right?” He started struggling out of the puffy suit he was wearing, muttering under his breath and shooting her concerned looks.

Giles frowned. “A party? Buffy, there’s a lot we need to discuss, with Glory and now Dawn knowing that she’s the key. This is no time for distractions. You’ve been extremely unfocused lately. It’s not like you at all. Are we sure that spell had no aftereffects?”

Buffy sighed. She kind of missed drunken, piano-playing Giles. What could she possibly say? Yes, she was completely and totally distracted because she couldn’t stop dreaming about a man who was actually a vampire, and every morning she woke up wishing she could go back to a pretend life that had actually been pretty damn good? Yeah, that was going to go over well.

“I’ll patrol afterwards, okay, Giles?”

Giles’ frown eased a little. “Are you sure you’re up to it? Perhaps Spike…”

“No!” Buffy said quickly. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell her Watcher about Spike’s maybe-possibly love declaration, not after the stupid spell had made everything so confusing. She was sure Willow was going to spill the beans any minute, but for the moment it appeared that spell-fixing was sufficiently distracting.

Buffy was also worried that if she started talking about everything she wouldn’t stop, and she might say some things that she didn’t mean to. Like maybe Spike wasn’t really so bad, was he? He had been helping an awful lot lately, and without any kind of incentive. The vampire was always willing to look after Dawn and even Mom liked him, which was really kind of weird since her mom had never been very nice to Angel. And…well, Buffy was pretty sure Giles didn’t want to hear things like that from her, not after the whole Angelus debacle.

It wasn’t really a fair comparison, though, Buffy had realized after that long, distressing day she’d spent locked in her room. Angel without his soul was nothing like Spike without a soul, even before the whole Initiative chip thing. And why was that, anyways?

All those complicated feelings about Angel she thought she’d buried forever had come roaring to the surface in the last few days, and none of them had aged well. Angel had never fought for her, her mind was fond of reminding her, not when it counted. He’d never thrown caution to the wind and done something for her that made her want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him at the same time. Angel had always done what was best for Angel, and when she hadn’t fit into his imagined future he’d cut her out of it nearly as heartlessly as Liam had.

Meanwhile, Spike wouldn’t stop being really, annoyingly, persistent. He _refused_ to leave. He’d even refused to leave in his dumb made-up world. She still kind of guiltily enjoyed reliving other-Spike punching other-Angel right in the face. It had been kinda cathartic. Stupid confusing vampires. Or, well, stupid confusing Spike. She was pretty sure there weren’t any other vampires quite like him. She hoped.

“Hey, where is old bleach brain, anyways? I haven’t seen him in days.”

Buffy shrugged to hide her flinch. She hadn’t either, not since she’d told him it was okay to sleep on the couch. He’d been gone the next morning. She hadn’t seen him at all while she was out on patrol. Her mom said he’d come by the house once but Buffy was pretty sure that Spike was completely avoiding her. It almost…hurt.

“Who cares,” she managed to say, hoping Xander and Giles wouldn’t guess that she really, really cared.

She followed Xander into the main part of the store and watched enviously as he said goodbye to Anya.

“Buffy,” Giles said quietly. “You really have been off-kilter all week. Are you sure you’re…”

“Fine,” Buffy interrupted before she sighed gustily, catching sight of Giles’ long-suffering expression. “I’m sorry, Giles. I’m trying.”

Her Watcher cast a critical eye over her. “Maybe you should get some rest tonight.”

“I don’t need rest,” Buffy said in exasperation. She wasn’t sure what she needed, but inviting more dreams that led to more heartache seemed like the opposite of good.

“Is it your mother? Because the doctor-”

“No, Giles, it’s not Mom. I said I’m fine.”

Giles pursed his lips in disapproval. “Buffy, if you won’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help.”

Buffy chewed on her lower lip, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t need…it’s just, it’s weird Giles.”

Giles crossed his arms and waited. 

Buffy sank into a seat at the big table where so many Scooby research sessions had happened. She wondered how mad Willow was going to be once she realized her spell hadn’t gone wrong after all. “Willow’s spell didn’t show Spike that his ‘obsession’ with me would end badly,” she admitted quietly.

Giles slowly sat down with her, his expression confused. “He told you this?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I was _there_ , Giles.” Giles furrowed his brow. Buffy took a breath and bowed her head, examining her nails. She should really give herself a manicure before she went to the party tonight. “It was all old-timey and stuff, like one of those Westerns Xander’s always trying to make us watch, and you were all there.” She smiled a little. “Like I was Dorothy. We were all basically the same, you know, except I wasn’t the Slayer, and Spike was human.” She glanced at her Watcher. “You owned a saloon and played a mean piano.”

Giles’ eyebrows shot into his hairline. “I see. But surely you understand that was just a false reality. Spike pretending to be human doesn’t make him less of a demon.”

Buffy shrugged. “Willow said…” She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “She said the spell shouldn’t have altered much; that the point of it was to force the dream to show the truth.”

“Surely you remember her other botched spells?” His voice was gentle.

“I was happy,” Buffy whispered to the tabletop. “It was…I was so happy, Giles.” A tear rolled off her nose and landed on the scarred wood without a sound.

Giles stared at her. He seemed at a loss for words. Buffy understood how he felt. She was still trying to come to grips with it herself. “Maybe the spell…” he started.

Buffy shook her head. “Yeah, it probably went wrong. I know.” Disappointment filled her. Giles was right; she couldn’t afford to believe any of it could be true. She had a sister to protect and a mother to look after and…well, maybe in that other life she’d had help, but here she was alone. She would always be alone. A second tear splashed onto the wooden surface before she dashed them away in irritation.

“Right. Well, good.” Giles stood up from the table and gave a decisive nod.

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered. “Good.” More than anything she wished she could go to sleep and wake up in the old ranchhouse. Maybe William would be in the kitchen attempting to cook breakfast again, or beside her still fast asleep. She could picture so clearly how peaceful he’d look in slumber. His hair would be tumbling over his forehead and his lips would be slightly parted, and when she woke him up he’d…Buffy sniffled a little and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

Giles cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve got to…bookkeeping.”  He gave her one last worried look before he disappeared into his office. Buffy let him flee, even though she was pretty sure Anya had commandeered most of the money-related shopkeeping stuff a while ago. 

The place was surprisingly quiet. Xander must have left while she and Giles had been talking. Buffy stood up and went to lean against the counter by the cash register, propping her chin on one hand.

Anya looked at her in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy sighed. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Oh.” Anya watched her out of the corner of her eye as she made some notations in a little book.

Buffy stared sightlessly toward the front window. “You were in it,” she finally said.

Anya looked even more confused. “In what?”

“The dream-thing, with Spike.”

“I was?”

Buffy nodded. “Uh-huh. You were in charge of the dancing girls at the saloon.”

“Ooh!” Anya looked delighted. “I do miss the wilder American west.”

“Were you ever there?”

“A few times.” Anya shrugged. “It was hard to get a good vengeance in before the man was gunned down by one human or another.”

Buffy’s lips quirked up in an almost-smile. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Xander said you couldn’t remember what happened during Willow’s spell.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I remember. I just don’t think they’d want to know about it.”

Anya lifted her eyebrows. “So you’re telling me?” She sounded surprised.

“I used to tell you stuff all the time. I mean, in the dream-place.”

“I bet my girls made a lot of money.” Anya looked smug.

“They did.” This time Buffy’s smile was wider. “Giles owned the saloon you worked in.”

Anya laughed. “Spike’s fantasy sounds very literal.”

Buffy felt the smile slip off her face. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Anya was starting to get a gleam in her eye that made Buffy slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her a lot of the Anya in that other place. “Willow said that you and Spike got confused and forgot who you were for a minute after you woke up. Is that really what happened?”

“I…I don’t know.” Buffy felt her face flush. She really wasn’t ready to think about the way she and Spike had kissed after the spell was over and they’d woken up. She didn’t have the luxury of blaming _that_ on the vampire’s brain. Even if she had been confused for a minute, the way she felt about him in the real world shouldn’t have changed just because she’d fallen asleep for a while. And yet she still felt a bit of lingering anger over Dawn and Willow’s interruption.

Anya eyed her speculatively. “It wasn’t bad like Xander keeps saying, was it?”

Buffy shook her head, not trusting her voice. Anya glanced over her shoulder towards Giles’ office before leaning a little closer to Buffy over the counter. “Look, I’ve seen a lot in eleven hundred years, and I’ve never met a vampire like Spike. He’s very unique.”

“He’s definitely...something,” Buffy said, wishing her voice sounded steadier.

Anya smiled at her knowingly. “I bet he looked great in a one of those hats.”

A tiny laugh slipped through Buffy’s lips. “He did. And don’t you dare repeat that.”

“You should tell him so he’ll get one. Role-playing is very satisfying in the bedroom.”

Buffy blushed and stood up straight, unable to meet Anya’s eyes. “There can’t be…anything like that.”

“Why not?” Anya looked genuinely baffled. “I thought the whole point of the spell was to show what could happen if you two were together, and if it didn’t end badly, then…?”

“I can’t!”

Anya sighed. “I swear, the more time I spend with humans the less I understand you.”

“You’re human!”

“Well, the sentiment still stands.”

“Spike is a vampire. I’m the Slayer.”

“You already dated Angel,” Anya pointed out, rolling her eyes.

“He had a soul!” Buffy hissed, praying that Giles didn’t come out of his office anytime soon. What had she been thinking, talking to Anya about this? Xander’s ex-demon girlfriend could never understand the sacrifices Buffy had to make for the greater good. Just because the memories of her shared Spike-dream were weighing heavily on her heart didn’t mean she couldn’t handle things on her own. She’d managed a sick mom and a key-sister and a mystical duty so far, what was one more thing?

“Well, luckily Spike doesn’t have one, so you can have all the orgasms you want.”

That brought Buffy up short. She gaped at Anya, her mouth working without sound. She was sure there was some way to refute that but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how. Last week she would have insisted that Spike couldn’t love her without his soul but after the damn spell she really couldn’t bring herself to say it anymore. Stupid vampires with their stupid romantic gestures and their stupidly sweet kisses and stupidly amazing…other things. She was going to kill Willow.

Anya was watching her, her eyes calculating. Buffy huffed out an annoyed breath. “You know, it was way easier there.”

“I’m sure it was.” Anya shrugged. “That’s kind of the whole point of a fantasy, to remove all the obstacles.”

Buffy was silent for a moment. Spike had made them both human, in that other world, which was kind of strange now that she thought about it. He’d never been ashamed of being a vampire. And even though she hadn’t been the Slayer he hadn’t imagined her as some helpless girl. He’d let her be strong and brave and kind of self-righteous, like he saw her now. He hadn’t made her perfect, he’d made her Buffy _._ She had a sneaking suspicion that if she’d been sucked into one of Riley’s fantasies she wouldn’t have recognized herself at all.

“Huh.” Buffy was startled out of her reverie as the bell over the front door chimed. “Um, thanks, Anya.” Buffy took a step back from the counter, her mind a mess of contradictions. Maybe this party tonight would be just what she needed to clear her head. There was too much going on lately and she hadn’t gotten to do any normal-girl things since…since a while ago. A little friend time at a typical college party seemed like just what the doctor ordered.

Anya gave her a pleased smile before turning to the newcomer. “Welcome to the Magic Box!”


	17. Shoot the Moon

The party was a classic frat affair with a keg and unidentifiable mixed drinks available in the kitchen, girls dressed for the completely wrong season, and music being played much too loudly over bad speakers. It made Buffy feel like even more of an outsider than she ever had.

She tugged on the bottom of her green wrap-sweater, and examined her nails. They looked cute, though the pearl gray was a lot more subdued than what she usually went for. She’d even managed to leave her hair down without fighting with it too much.

Willow and Tara were chatting in a far corner, and Anya and Xander had wandered off somewhere, leaving Buffy alone by the food table. She eyed the paltry offerings sadly, remembering when cornbread and casseroles made up a buffet instead of three different flavors of generic potato chips. Buffy rolled her eyes at herself. Now she was pining for the pretend-olden days. She was sinking to new levels of pathetic.

“Hey, Buffy.”

Buffy looked up, startled, into a pair of big, brown eyes. A guy she vaguely recognized was smiling at her uncertainly and she wished for a moment there was a hayloft nearby for her to hide in. She missed William more than anyone who’d ever been real. She stuffed the disappointment she felt deep down inside and wracked her brain, trying to remember how she knew him. Had he been in one of her classes last semester? He looked vaguely like he might be into poetry, although she doubted she’d want to hear him recite any.

A light clicked on in her brain. Ben, she finally remembered, from the hospital.

“Um, Ben! Hi.” Buffy’s attempt at a smile failed almost as soon as she managed to form it. She stared at him helplessly. It wasn’t his fault that his eyes were the wrong color and his hair was too brown and he wasn’t someone else entirely. She was fairly certain that a few days ago she would have been thrilled he was talking to her. She glanced around but saw absolutely no one who would help her extricate herself from this situation.

“Good party.” Ben raked a hand through his hair and Buffy was reminded of the stupid vampire she was trying not to think about. Well, if she could ever stop thinking about him in the first place.

“Food could be better,” she replied a little belatedly, shrugging.

Ben let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, how’s your mom?”

“My mom?” Buffy tried to focus on having a normal conversation. She could do this. She’d done it before. Riley used to talk about boring stuff all the time and she’d managed to keep up a steady stream of chatter. “She’s good. Great, even.”

“Great.” Ben smiled tentatively at her.

Buffy realized it was her turn to come up with something to say just as a flash of white blond hair caught her eye and she found herself spinning in that direction without thought.

Spike looked as startled as she was, stopping short a few feet from her. “Buffy?”

All the air was sucked from her lungs. He was here. Spike was here, and he was real, except he was still a vampire who just imagined he was a man. “Spike.” She hoped he didn’t notice how unsteady her voice sounded.

He was wearing his usual clothes this time—black on black with a little red thrown in—and not one of those weird preppy outfits he’d been experimenting with. His jacket was still missing. Everything he did was filed away in a little box in her head labeled ‘Spike’. She wasn’t sure when he’d earned his own special category. She realized she was staring.

Spike glanced around and poked at one of the half-full bowls of chips on the table, seemingly avoiding her gaze. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Buffy was torn between wanting to move closer to him and leaving the party immediately. And then possibly fleeing the state. Maybe the country. She wondered if the pain lodged in her chest would ease the further she was from him, or just get worse. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Uh.” Ben looked between her and Spike. “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh, sorry.” Buffy tried another smile. It was a little easier this time. “Ben, this is Spike. Spike, Ben.”

“Nice to meet you?” Ben ventured.

Spike nodded distractedly at him, still poking at the bowls on the table. Maybe he was looking for some of Tara’s casserole too, Buffy thought inanely. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. Spike glanced her way again and rocked back on his heels. “Food looks terrible,” he finally commented.

“Uh huh,” Buffy agreed. Something was different about him tonight.

Ben cleared his throat but Buffy was busy trying to pinpoint what it was about Spike that was niggling in the back of her brain. She could talk to Ben later. Maybe. If she ran into him again. “Well, I should…I’ll see you around, Buffy.” Ben slipped away without waiting for a reply and then she was alone. Alone with Spike.

Buffy absently ran a finger along the edge of the table, fighting the urge to go stand behind it and offer Spike a drink. Maybe he would say a line from a poem like he’d done in their other life, gifting her with a glimpse of William. Buffy drew in an uneven, shaky breath as she suddenly realized what was different.

He was wearing the right vampire-Spike clothes but his hair wasn’t slicked back ruthlessly like he usually kept it. It was softer-looking and slightly curled. It looked like William’s hair. Spike’s gaze skimmed over the crowd around them.

Buffy took another breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “I, uh, how…are you?” She winced, feeling her face heat up. God, she was so lame.

Spike frowned at the table like he was trying to figure out if the potato chips were poisoned. “Fine?”

“Um, good?” Buffy tried to think of what to say next. “That’s good, because that whole…spell thing and stuff was a little weird. I mean, felt weird. I mean… _ugh_.” Buffy wanted to sink through the floor.

Spike finally looked at her, a tiny smile playing on his face. “Weird, huh?”

“Well.” Buffy tried to recover what was left of her dignity. “There was way less bloodshed than Willow was counting on, that’s for sure.”

Spike looked offended. “Hey! I fought a bunch of those wankers! And killed Angelus! There was all kinds of bloodshed.”

Buffy struggled to keep the amusement off her face. “Not really the expected kind, I think.”

Spike smirked slightly. “Never did like to do the expected.”

“I noticed.” Buffy studied his strong profile while he went back to avoided her eyes. She would probably be able to identify him in the dark just by feel now, even if all that touching hadn’t happened in real life. “Were you like that when you were human?” Buffy didn’t even know why she was asking, she just didn’t want him to walk away quite yet.

Spike looked pained. “Not really.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Of course he hadn’t been. And if he had, would it really matter? He was still a vampire. “Oh,” she said.

Spike ran a hand through his untidy hair like he was anxious about something. Buffy’s treacherous little Spike brain-box told her she’d known how to read him long before they’d gotten stuck in Spike’s la-la land. His gaze settled somewhere over her shoulder and he set his jaw. Buffy held her breath, waiting for him to say something she’d have to be angry about or offended by. Her stomach twisted.

“When I was human,” Spike said quietly, “I never would have had the courage to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Buffy repeated softly. A feeling of warmth welled up in her chest and the knots in her stomach loosened slightly. She took a tiny step closer to him. “So, is the poetry thing just a William trait?”

Spike met her eyes, startled. “What? No! I mean…” He sounded a little desperate. “Uh, why?”

“No reason,” Buffy said quickly. This was turning into an actual conversation. She was having an actual conversation with Spike and she hadn’t wanted to kill him once. They were both quiet as Buffy thought about how strange it was that the two of them shared memories that no one else ever would. She’d missed him. Except it hadn’t really been him, she reminded herself, just his fantasy version of himself. She furrowed her brow. _Huh_.

Spike tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and gave her a crooked smile. She recognized that smile from several of the thousand memories they’d made while they dreamed together. It had been so easy to love him. Shouldn’t her dream-self have objected to that if it wasn’t possible in real life? Instead, she’d married him. Buffy hesitantly opened her mouth again. “I, um, kind of liked it.”

A mischievous light sparked in Spike’s eyes. “I certainly remember some good times.”

Buffy felt her face flush. “I didn’t mean…I meant the overall, general-” She blew out an exasperated breath as Spike seemed to regain some of the confidence he’d been missing earlier. She thought about punching him in the nose, but she was pretty sure he’d notice how little force she’d be able muster up. She couldn’t bear to think of hurting him when William was somewhere inside him. Spike might try to hide that part of himself behind his crude comments and outsized ego, but she knew better. He’d fought against Angelus, amazed and infuriated her in equal measures, protected her family, and sworn devotion to her in real life just as he had in their dream. Buffy found herself staring at Spike like she was seeing him for the first time. 

Spike ducked his head and smiled wider before turning to survey the crowded room. He seemed much more relaxed now. The vampire’s eyes slid her way. “Dance, pet?”

Buffy blinked at him and nodded even as her inner practical-Buffy voice was screaming that this was a Very Bad Idea. She shoved it away. That stupid voice had also told her that Riley was a good idea and look where that had gotten her. Spike seemed almost as surprised as she felt about her agreeability. He hesitantly held out a hand and she slipped her own into it, her fingers barely resting on his palm. A delicious shiver ran up her spine as he led her closer to the center of the room. When his other hand came to rest on her hip she felt her whole body tremble.

She no longer cared who else was around them. This was everything she’d been missing since she’d woken up on the couch and her world had gone pear-shaped. Maybe he wasn’t exactly the man of her dreams—and frankly, she was a little grateful for that, since she wasn’t really a plucky barmaid—but he’d certainly surprised her at every turn, and was always reaching for something that seemed impossible. Just like William.

Somewhere, Giles was feeling the need for a scotch, she was sure of it.

She couldn’t stop staring at Spike. He watched her watch him as they turned in slow circles. His eyes were shadowed in the dim lighting, but she recognized the soft expression on his face. She’d seen it even before she’d met him in that other place. The way that he held her was so gentle it was almost more intimate than if they’d been grinding against one another. If she closed her eyes, she was sure she’d be able to hear a piano.

“Do you miss it?” Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself.

Spike furrowed his brow. “Some things.” Buffy nodded, fighting to keep her inevitable tears from making an appearance. She didn’t want to ruin this fragile truce. She supposed it had to have felt like something of a miracle to walk in the sun again. Spike tilted his head, contemplating her. “Do you?”

Buffy thought about denying it but she was already dancing with him. Last week she would have tried to throw him out the moment he’d arrived at this party. “I…yes,” Buffy admitted.

“Yeah?” Another smile quirked the edge of Spike’s mouth and his grip on her hand tightened.  The vampire pulled her a little closer, his hand caressing her hip, and just when she thought maybe she was making a terrible mistake: she heard it. He was humming, soft and low in the back of his throat. She didn’t even know if he realized he was doing it. That song haunted her; the one Giles had played the first time Spike had danced with her just like this. Buffy closed her eyes and for one, brief shining moment she was back there. She wondered how he could make her feel so many things at once.

Their joined hands brushed against her cheek and she opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her. Buffy looked away, tugging her hand from his grasp and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I dream about it, sometimes,” she whispered. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this to him. She should have her head examined.

They were hardly moving anymore, even though the music was loud and frantic-sounding. Spike pulled her against him, one hand still on her hip while the other lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “Me too,” he said solemnly. Her hands came to rest on the thin cotton t-shirt stretched across his chest. He should really button his shirt properly when they were out in company like this. Her fingers absently slid under the two halves and drew them together, doing up a button before she caught Spike watching her in amusement.

Buffy took a breath. It hadn’t been real, she reminded herself. Except he smelled almost exactly the same: slightly sweet and a little smoky but without the underlying scent of horse. Had she brought that knowledge with her into their dream? She let out a small laugh, feeling slightly dizzy. “This is crazy.”

Spike watched her with guarded hope in his eyes, his arms drawing her in and holding her close as she settled her head against his chest. She closed her eyes again and let herself just feel. He wasn’t as warm as he had been in that other place, and she missed the comforting thump of his heart, but maybe most of William had come back with her. It was enough to ease the hollowness in her heart. Spike tightened his hold on her and she slid one hand up to rest on the nape of his neck, playing with the curls there. They were just as soft as she remembered. She felt Spike’s nose nudge her temple as his chest rose and fell against her cheek.

“Excuse me!” some incredibly rude girl interrupted. Buffy lifted her head to glare. “Have you seen Warren? He’s my boyfriend.”

“Sod off,” Spike growled. Buffy settled her head back against his chest as one of his hands slipped through her hair. She felt better than she had in days.

“Hey!” someone nearby was yelling.

Buffy frowned and pulled back abruptly as she watched the rude girl launch some guy into a wall. “Um,” she said. “That’s different.” She looked regretfully up at Spike. “I should probably…” She gestured at the strangely strong girl who wouldn’t stop smiling like some kind of creepy mannequin. 

Spike released her almost immediately and Buffy felt like her body was suddenly ten degrees cooler. “Course,” was all he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced at her from under his eyelashes and Buffy was tempted to just say the hell with it and lean into him again. She mentally shook herself instead and lifted her chin. She had a duty.

Willow appeared next to her. “Buffy!” She stopped, her eyes wide. “Uh, and Spike?”

“I saw,” Buffy cut her friend off before she could ask. “What do you think, robot?”

“Oh, totally.” Willow nodded confidently. “A really good one though.”

Buffy turned to say something to Spike but the vampire was gone. Disappointment flooded through her. “Hey, Willow?”

“Hm?” Willow tore her gaze from the robot’s butt.

“What was the name of the spell you used again?”

“What spell? Oh, the one with Spike? It meant ‘mind wandering’. It was just supposed to show him how bad things would be if he didn’t get over his bizarre obsession with you, Buffy, I swear.”

“That’s not what it did.”

“Do you remember what it did do?” Willow asked curiously.

Buffy chewed on her lower lip for a minute. “It was…it was nice.”

“What was? Spike was?”

“The whole thing was. It was kind of stupid and hokey and, you know, extreme with the melodrama, which really isn’t surprising. I mean, he does love all those daytime soaps. But it was…it was nice.” Willow blinked at her and Buffy shrugged uncomfortably. “I know it wasn’t real.”

Willow pursed her lips, considering her thoughtfully. “Well, no, it wasn’t real, but it was real to you guys. I mean, it was picked out of his brain. The spell was just supposed to drive it to its, you know, inevitable dusty conclusion.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Buffy couldn’t meet Willow’s eyes. “We were happy.”

“Oh,” Willow blinked at her. “That’s, uh, happy? Are you sure?”

Buffy would have laughed if her chest hadn’t felt so tight. She wondered where Spike had gone, and if she’d ever have another chance to try and figure out what they could be together. “I’m very sure,” she told Willow. “It was…well, there was a lot going on, but in the end? He was there and…and it was perfect.” Buffy pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes for a moment as she recovered herself.

There was a long, awkward pause. “Are-are you okay?” 

“No, Willow. I am definitely not okay.” Buffy dropped her hands and sighed, watching distractedly as Xander approach the robot-girl.

Willow looked distressed. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I didn’t mean to-”

“Why does this always happen to me?”

“Uh, bad spells?”

“Falling for the wrong guys,” Buffy said absently, tilting her head at the tableau across the room as Xander tried to calm down the girl-robot-thing.

Willow’s mouth fell open. “You mean…?”

“Oh jeez.” Buffy started toward the robot-girl as it lifted Xander by the front of his shirt and shook him a little. “You’d think after spending all this time surrounded by women he’d be better at talking to them.”

Willow made a weird choking noise behind her as Buffy crossed the room. “Uh, Buffy?”

“Hey.” Buffy waved at the robot-girl. “You want to put him down? He’s just trying to help.”

The robot dropped Xander and he scrambled away, his eyes wide as he gasped for breath. “Buffy! I think she’s a-”

“Robot,” Willow and Buffy chorused.

Xander frowned. “Well, yeah.”

Buffy stepped in front of the robot-girl as it tried to walk away. “So, what’s the deal with the whole lost boyfriend thing, anyways?”

“Please stay out of my way, I have to find Warren.” The robot-girl shoved Buffy and sent her tumbling toward the floor, but Buffy never hit the ground. She blinked, surprised, as someone lifted her up and set her back on her feet.

“Might want to rethink the approach, pet,” Spike sounded amused as she turned to face him. The robot was heading for the front door but Buffy couldn’t make her feet move in that direction.

“What are you doing here, Spike? Buffy doesn’t need-” Xander started.

“I’ll see if I can figure out who Warren is,” Willow interrupted. She grabbed Xander’s arm. “Xander will help.”

“I will?” Xander let out an undignified yelp as Willow’s foot made contact with his toes.

“Sure,” Buffy answered vaguely. “I’ll see if I can keep her out of trouble for a while.” Buffy watched the girl exit the house and then she turned to Spike. “You wanna?” She tilted her head toward the door in invitation. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was asking but the pleased expression on his face made her think it might have been the best idea she’d had all night.

“You need help keeping an eye on a robot, Slayer?”

Buffy lifted one shoulder. “I just thought it might be nice to have some company.”

Spike smiled slowly. “All right then.”

“Why the hell is she taking evil dead?” Buffy heard Xander ask.

“I’ll, uh, tell you later,” Willow replied.

***

The night air was cool but welcome. Spike walked beside her down the sidewalk, watching as the robot girl stopped to talk to some passersby. Buffy bumped his shoulder with hers. “Thanks for coming with.”

“Sure.” Spike shot her a small smile that made her heart skip a beat.

Buffy reached out and touched the sleeve of his shirt, holding it gently between two of her fingers. “Do you remember it? I mean, all of it?”

Spike eyed her warily. “Suppose so.”

“Do you think…it just seemed so real.”

Spike let out a soft sigh. “Yeah it did.”

Buffy felt like maybe she was where back where she belonged for the first time in a week. “Sometimes I wish it had been.” Spike blinked at her. “Do…do you?” She released his sleeve and the back of her hand grazed his.

Spike snagged one of her fingers before she could pull away, sliding their hands together. He kept his eyes steady on hers and she saw his chest rise and fall. “Every day, kitten.”

A smile bloomed across Buffy’s face as they started walking again. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Maybe try not to kill any of my exes, though.”

“I’m not making any promises I can’t keep.”

“Spike!”

“What if there are extenuating circumstances?”

“Angel’s continued existence is not an extenuating circumstance.”

Spike heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

Buffy laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. The stars were bright in the clear sky. She wondered how mad everyone she knew was going to be about this. Probably really, really mad. But maybe…maybe Willow’s spell was right. And how freaky would that be?

“Spike?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think it could really be like that? Like we were in that place, I mean?”

Spike was quiet for a while. Their leisurely pace belied the mission they were currently on, trying not to get in the way of the robot’s single-minded determination to find her wayward beau. Buffy was starting to feel kind of bad that robot-girl’s boyfriend didn’t seem to care about her in the slightest. Warren was apparently a lot like Liam. The Liam from Spike’s fevered daydreams, anyways.

“I think we could be anything you want,” Spike finally replied quietly.

Of course he thought so. He dreamed impossible things and made them come true. Maybe a little of that would rub off on her. She wouldn’t know until she tried.

Spike tugged her to a stop and she turned to face him. “What is this, exactly, Buffy?”

Buffy stepped closer, tilting her head up so she could see his face. He was watching her with that look in his eyes she remembered from their strange little world, the one that made her heartbeat quicken. She reached up and put a hand his cheek. Her thumb traced along the edge of his bottom lip and she felt him tremble just before he splayed a hand across the small of her back and pull her flush against him. She could hear his voice reciting her poetry in the bright sunlight beside a meandering creek as Spike slowly closed the distance between them and brushed a gentle, questioning kiss across her lips.

Buffy’s eyes fell shut of their own accord and her hands clutched at his shoulders as he started to pull away. This time the press of his lips was firmer and she felt him slide a hand up into her hair. She sighed against his mouth and was rewarded with an even deeper kiss. Somewhere behind them, someone was shouting, most likely at the robot-girl again. Buffy pulled back reluctantly and pressed one last brief kiss to Spike’s lips. He looked slightly stunned, which made her grin. The blue of his eyes was darker in the pale moonlight than it was in the sun, but she supposed she’d get used to that. “Maybe we’re just starting over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks! 
> 
> Thanks times a million for reading, I hope you enjoyed the ride. I couldn't have done it without my beta and cheerleader, Sunalso.


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